Adventures with Julia

Wednesday, April 4, 2018

Back in the first world at 6:30am, we stop for a quick coffee in the airport as we have a few minutes to kill before our driver arrives to takes us to our hotel, the Pulitzer, on one of the canals near the old part of Amsterdam. We have just enough time to clean up before meeting our guide for the day, Tricia Robbins, at 9am. It was a good thing we had slept on the plane as she kept up a running commentary about the history of Amsterdam that made my head spin.

One of 2 remaining wooden houses in Amsterdam from 1550.

Small entrance to a hidden Catholic Church, near the wooden house above. During the Protestant era from 1578 until 1848, Catholics were not allowed to worship in public.

Interior of a hidden Catholic Church. Still in use today, although no longer hidden.

I take lots of notes to help keep up, but there is way more to Dutch history than either of us really wants to remember.
Tricia was delightful, never the less, and we enjoyed her company very much.

A row of bent houses. Some lean forward to allow easier access for furnishing to the upper floors. Hooks protrude from the tops of the buildings to allow pulleys to provide assistance. Some lean sideways as the wooden
pilings under them have shifter.

We walked all through the old city looking at different buildings and neighborhoods in a light, but cold, rain during the morning.

The skinniest house we saw. Only about 6 feet wide and three stories high. Can’t imagine who could live in it. It exists because people pay taxes according to the number of meters that front on the street.

We learned there are 850,000 people in Amsterdam and 880,000 bicycles. She, for example has three. One for going for groceries and errands, one for carrying her child and one for pleasure riding. Most people do not own a car. People have become very creative in finding ways to keep their bikes from being stolen. One of which is to have a really old, rusty-looking bike. We see hundreds like that.
The water in the canals is very clear these days due to stringent sanitation, however it is still brown due to silt in the water and bikes. Apparently, people toss their old bikes into the canals as the easiest way to dispose of them. The city fishes out about 15,000 each year.

The Dutch were and still are merchants first and foremost. The 13th century city was founded by the Spanish and was Catholic until the 16th century, when Martin Luther and others began to protest the excessive wealth of the Church, while its members were largely very poor. The protests eventually led to Amsterdam becoming a Protestant city in 1578. Catholic churches were banned in the city and were turned into Protestant churches. The remaining Catholics were not allowed to practice their religion in public places. Thus began the formation of hidden churches, several of which still remain today. Tricia took us into a couple of them and walked us through residential neighborhoods where nuns had once lived and now were lived in by single women. In 1848 a new constitution was approved that allowed freedom of public religion. Catholics immediately began building huge churches, of which there are now several.

To warm up we stopped at a coffee house for some tea. That sure helped as my fingers were very cold. She suggested we try a traditional Dutch dish of raw herring. It was served with chopped onion and tangy sliced dill pickles at a fish vendor stand. It was delicious. If we lived in Amsterdam, I’m sure we would eat it often.

The Royal Palace on Dam Square. Until 1806 it had been the Town Hall. It became the palace when Louis Bonaparte and his wife Hortense move in. It is still used for state affaires.

Tricia told us much more about the history of the monarchy and how a French Prince, William of Orange, became the popular Dutch leader or Stadtholder and helped the Dutch fight against the over controlling Spanish King, Charles V. When Napoleon Bonaparte absorbed the Netherlands in the early 1800’s, he installed his brother, Louis Napoleon, as king in 1806. Louis became very popular and in 1810, Napoleon jealously replaced Louis with himself and was king until the Battle of Waterloo in 1915. At that point, the stadholder position was permanently replaced with a king, starting with William I. By then, we were standing next to the Royal Palace on Dam Square, where Louis and Hortense Bonaparte lived during his 5 year reign. It had been the Town Hall until the Kingdom was instituted and is now used for royal banquets and social affairs. The statue in the triangle above the building is the Amsterdam City Maiden.

In front of the house Anne Frank hid in for 2 years before her family was betrayed.

We walked by Anne Frank’s house where very long lines of people waited to see the inside. I was glad I had seen it years ago and Mark was happy with a photo by the front door. We also stepped into a small store called the Mouse Mansion. It contained multiple, large hand made constructions of imagined dwellings for mice, primarily a couple named Sam and Julia. It was very charming to see the various “mansions”, meet the daughter of the creator and see copies of the 11 or so mainly children’s books about the mouse characters, Sam and Julia, that have been written.

Then Tricia took us to a place to get some lunch. We selected a couple of hot cheese dishes she recommended. OK to try, but not our cup of tea. After eating, we walked several blocks through a heavy downpour to the trolly and rode it to the Van Gogh Museum.

Self-Portrait 1887. Very colorful with the paint colors laid side by side, but not mixed.

Purple Irises 1889. Although still lovely, the purple has faded to blue. Vincent was not always able to afford expensive paints that would not fade.

Gaugain’s Chair 1888. Vincent found elegant furnishings for the visit of Paul Gauguin to his house in Arles. Painting this chair with a nocturnal atmosphere in mysterious reds and greens was like painting the artist. In contrast he painted his own simple chair in yellows and blues. After 2 months of being together, they fought and parted for good.

1889. While in an asylum, having admitted himself, Vincent creates a scene that evokes the madness of patients with the contrasting red and green colors and inserting a tiny figure in the overwhelming landscape, reinforcing the sense of dread.

Symphony of Yellows. This is the only piece where Vincent painted the frame to go with the art.

Close up of Symphony in Yellow. Many other colors are visible close up.

Flowering Trees 1888.
This is one of my favorites. It does have a Japanese sense to it.

Close up of Flowering Trees

1890. Vincent’s final painting. Unfinished, especially in the lower left. The unrecognizable forms, powerful lines and vivid colors suggest he was a forerunner of abstract art.

It is quite a well laid out exhibition. Tricia kept me moving through the most important works and kept Mark entertained so, we ended up finishing at the same time. That is a first. Tricia was an excellent docent. She told us Vincent, born in 1853, used his 40 self portraits as ways to improve his skill as a portrait artist and to practice experimentation. He had no money to hire models and painting himself was free. His brother, Theo, born in 1857, managed to give Vincent an allowance for several years, which allowed him to continue his experimentation. From the age of 27 for 10 years, he painted over 900 pieces. It was Theo’s son, also named Vincent, who started the Van Gogh Foundation with most of Vincent’s art and all his letters and notes, which had been left to Theo. The Foundation now operates the Museum and manages the display of paintings and Vincent’s writings and letters. Vincent was shot and died two days later in 1890. It remains unclear how he became shot. Theo died of syphilis only 6 months later in 1891. According to Tricia, Vincent painted what he saw. He did not paint from imagination as his friend Gauguin did. This was at least part of the difference between the two contemporaries. Following are photos of several of Vincent’s paintings. Hope you like them as I do. We took a taxi back to the Pulitzer and bid Tricia farewell. If only every guide could be as interesting, educated and fun as she is.

We had dinner in the hotel and were happy to dive into bed after a long day with not so much sleep on the plane the night before. Good thing we are not yet old. Hmmmm.

Thursday, April 5, 2018

Waiting for the 8:02 train to Stuttgart. It was freezing cold and windy. We wondered why the train doors would not open so we could go inside. Brrr.

Up and our early again. We catch the 8:02 train from Amsterdam to Stuttgart. Mark clocks our top speed at 178mph between Cologne and Stuttgart. The ride was quiet and smooth and the train very clean. We skillfully negotiated a train change in Mannheim. Then, off the train and out of the Stuttgart station at 12:30, a taxi driver tells us we should walk the short distance, even though it is raining. We do. However, it is several hundred yards and I am feeling bedraggled when we walk into what is billed as a 5 star hotel, the Am Schlossgarten, looking like drenched vagabonds.

The entrance to the Mercedes Benz Museum. The sight of the place filled us with anticipation.

After checking in we took a taxi to the Mercedes Benz Museum and spent 2 full hours walking down and around and through the well laid out exhibition in a very futuristic building.  We managed to stay together most of the time as we had audio guides that kept us in sync. I was fascinated by the overall presentation and enjoyed the walk.  Here are a few of our favorite cars.

1902 Mercedes-Simplex 40PS is the oldest Mercedes still in existence. Called Simplex because it was relatively easy to handle for the period.

1939 Mercedes-Benz 320 Stromlinien-Limousine was a streamlined sedan. They were the most stylish means of travel for comfort and safety.

The rear compartment opening of the MB 320 sedan.

One of several showroom floors in the MB Museum.

1936 Mercedes-Benz 500K Spezial-Roadster was the car of the rich and beautiful. It was the brand’s show piece of the 30’s and its most expensive, at $28,000 Reichsmark (roughly $98,000 Euro in todays currency.)

1907 Milner-Daimler Doppeldeckerbus.  The bus was used in London from 1904 on. By 1907, here were 400 in use including this one.

1954 Mercedes-Benz 300S Cabriolet A was launched as an exclusive top-of-the-range model with a sporty touch and a more powerful engine.

1955 Mercedes-Benz 300SLR “Uhlenhaut-Coupe” was to have been a racing car, but the company stopped its motorsport activities and instead, the car was used by the head of the Test Department, Rudilf Uhlenhaut, as a company car.

Later, for dinner, we stayed in our 5 star hotel, provided courtesy of Mercedes-Benz for buying a car from their factory, and dined in their Michelin Star restaurant, called Die Zirbelstube.  We called it our joint birthday celebration.   We are between our 2 birthdates, the trip has been an incredibly successful adventure and we are about to take delivery of a new car.   The restaurant was elegant with knotty pine walls and starched white linens on the tables along with crystal glassware and sterling flatware. We chose the 3 course meal rather than the typical 7 course dinner, similar to the one we had enjoyed in Croatia when we were there. We were not very hungry and we did not want to spend three hours having dinner. Our first course consisted of two kinds of raw Hamachi that were beautifully presented in two ways. Our main course was boneless pigeon served with mango wrapped around a soft filing we could not name and a delicious sauce. Dessert was fig served with goose liver pate, served three ways. It all tasted delicious and was quite enough for us.

Friday, April 6, 2018

At 8am we leave the hotel for our date at the Mercedes Sindelfingen Factory to pick up our new car. Everything goes smoothly and by 9am, we have seen the car and accepted it per our specifications.

The delivery area where 300 cars a day are handed over to their new owners. Mine is in the left foreground and looks splendid.

My new SL 550. Ain’t she a beauty! I hate to touch her and just walk around staring.

It is quite a beauty sitting in the large room where all the cars to be delivered this day are parked waiting for their new owners to claim them. After all the paper work is done, we wait for the Factory tour to begin at 10:30 and share the experience with way too many people, 40 at least. We get the most out of it that we can and I do pick a few factoids from the guide. In 2017, 310,000 of the E and S class model cars were made in this 3 square kilometer factory, along with a few other models such as the Maybach. The factory opened in 1915 and was bombed to bits in 1945 by allied forces before being rebuilt. 250-300 cars are handed over to people like us on a daily basis. Our car was brought here from a different factory where the model SL’s are made. It had 20 miles on it.

There are 35,000 employees in addition to 5000 robots, which do many different tasks. 28% of the work force is foreign, 33% are women, 5.4% are disabled and hired per German law. Mercedes has a training Center where 750 students study for 3.5 years to become employees of the company. They have over 3000 applications per year for the 250 annual openings. Employees do not leave, but can be repositioned within the company.

10% of the cars are right-hand drive, 10% are manual shift. Each car travels 45 kilometers within the factory from start to finish. 90 train cars and 1200 truck loads of parts arrive per day for a “just on time” delivery system. 80% of the 8-10,000 parts per car are produced in Germany. 30% are produced by Mercedes Benz and 70% by 1200 suppliers. The guide would not tell us the exact number of cars produced per day, but we calculated between 14 and 1700, based on other details he did share.

After the 1.5 hour tour we drove the car to the shipping handler about a kilometer away from the factory. We managed to get disoriented and put 5 miles on the car before finding the place. Am sure glad we did not choose to drive the car around the country.

The shipper ordered up a taxi. We took one last look at the car and headed for the Porsche Museum on the other side of Stuttgart. It was in a very futuristic looking building too. Inside, we had a nice lunch and a pleasant walk through the exhibition. There were a lot of racing cars that neither of us had any interest in and a number of 911’s from every year they have been made. That history was mildly interesting, but neither of us took any photos. We went through the museum in less than an hour and grabbed a taxi back to the hotel, arriving mid afternoon.

The futuristic Porsche Museum.

The only Porsche photo I took was this one out side next to the building.

Our hotel, it turned out, is very centrally located. Not only is it close to the train station, it is next to a city park, and a major shopping district along a main pedestrian street called, Konigstrassa. We started wandering toward the park and ended up walking to the end of Konigstrassa. Just to have a goal, we looked for the local Escada clothing store, but were distracted by a quality bedding store, learned that Escada had closed its Stuttgart location and purchased comforters and covers for them instead. Why bother you ask? Well we have found that we like having our own individual comforter, but have not been able to buy them in the states. We purchased our first set in Prague after appreciating separate comforters in Iceland and wanted a second set for our lake house. Here was our opportunity. Once we had made that purchase we had to buy a suitcase. So we found the local luggage store and bought a lightweight bag. We squished everything into it and rolled it back to the hotel, pleased with our purchases. Aside from a single strand of beads I bought at the street market in Chad, we have not purchased another souvenir or piece of art. We will make good use of these comforters and have a new suitcase
too.

For dinner, we walked back through the park to a very popular watering hole, called Carl’s Brauhaus and had German food and beer amid the crush and bedlam of so many people intent on having a loud, as well as good, time. To be seated timely, we agreed to share a table with 2 other couples. The food was just ok, but the beer was really good.

Hopefully, this map will help you get oriented with our Congo travels.

The area of our DRC adventures. Lake Kivu and Goma are near the bottom.  The ink dot on the lake just left of Goma represents Tchegera Island.  Mikena Lodge is in Rumangabe, north of Goma on the red road.  Just left of that is Nyamulagira Volcano at 3299 meters.  To the right of the road, at 4437 meters with no name listed, is Nyiragongo Volcano.  We also flew up valley to the right shore of Lake Edward for our game drive, still in Virunga National Park.

Sunday April 1, 2018   Easter

Happy Easter.  Here on this tiny tropical island in Lake Kivu in the Congo, it does not feel much like our most religious event of the year, but I spend some time gratefully contemplating the Risen Lord anyway.  

Our tent on Tchegera Island with the helicopter in the background.

Then we are off for an early morning flight along the western side of  the very placid Lake Kivu, which is 80 miles long and 20 miles wide. 

A small fishing village with the three boat catamarans.

The land around the lake is very fertile, with small fishing villages doting the shoreline.  Home made, three hulled, catamaran style fishing boats provide stability and extra room for fish. 

An old Belgian estate home.

Here and there along the shore, are aging, once stately and grand, homes that belonged to rich Belgians when the country was a Belgium colony before independence in 1960.  

Another one of many fishing villages on Lake Kivu.

After awhile we turn away from the lake and fly over huge lava fields, both raw and recent (2011 and 2014) and older (2001 and earlier), where vegetation is pushing through the lava. 

Lava flows from different eruptions. Easy to see which is new and which is old.

Hamish gently lands on an active shield volcano named Nyamulagira that is 10,033 feet high. 

The moonlike landscape on Nyamulagira Volcano.

It feels like we are aliens who have landed on Mars in our space ship.  No footprints anywhere, except ours. 

Us in a field of dead tree trunks.  And yes, we are cold in this high, windy scene.

Burnt remains of trees, black pumice and jagged rocks cover miles of undulating surface interrupted by small steam vents that warm us as we pass near them, until we reach the edge and peer into the abyss.  The crater walls are multicolored from different exposed minerals. 

Steam vents through the pumice and jumbled rock surface.

A rocky outcrop.

Up close the cold lava folded into interesting shapes.

We three musketeers, still together after 2 1/2 weeks of awfully wonderful adventures.

Steam rises from many large vents that interrupt our view.  We each head out in different directions to see what we can find, while, back at our space ship,

Coffee and biscuits on the moon.

Hamish sets out biscuits and hot, French press coffee on a small table. Together we share the other worldly experience.  

Our ship lifts off and we make one last circle around the edge of the crater so we can see the bottom.  There is no red lava, but many large steam vents.   Hamish turns us toward Nyiragongo, the 11,385 foot high starts volcano for a look at its awesome lava lake from every side and angle and the 12 cliff hanging A frame shelters where we will be spending the night. 

Approaching the rim of Nyiragongo Volcano.

Getting closer to the rim.

The “helicopter pad” landing sight. The shelters are high on the right corner.

It is pretty daunting to see how steep and jagged the climb will be even from the short distance to the top the helicopter pad will provide.  Soon we are back to the island for breakfast and time to relax and contemplate the coming adventure.  

After a large lunch of lamb chops with mashed eggplant, carrots and another dense chocolate mouse,  Mark and I went for a swim in the lake and prepared a small pack for our overnight adventure on Nyiragongo.  We can see the volcano from the island and watch for a cloud free window to open.  From the time we lift off the island at 4:10pm until we land on the volcano, berely 10 minutes pass. 

Coming in for our landing on the volcano.  Porters wait to help with our gear.

We climb from 5,200 feet to 11,000 feet and the temperature drops from a balmy 80 degrees to 50.  The landing sight had been painstakingly carved out of the jagged volcanic rock wall and is just large enough for Hamish to find a perch.  He admits to an adrenaline rush and heightened attention.  He is, for certain, an expert with the helicopter and makes his effort look natural and easy.  

We finally make it to the rim. It took two men and all their strength to get me up toe steep, rocky slope.

Once firmly in place we begin the short, but difficult hike up the rest of the mountain to the peak.  It took two porters more than 20 minutes to help me up the short, but steep rocky mountain wall to the jagged top. 

We enjoy piping hot mugs of soup in the canteen, in spite of the rain.  The wood is too wet for a fire.

After a brief look at the lava lake, we set up our sleeping bags in the shelters, one for Hamish and Mark and one for Noriko and me.  We were the last of the 23 people staying overnight to arrive.  Everyone else had made the 5 and a half hour hike up the mountain and already taken the good shelters, each of which was 6 by 9 feet with a small door at one end.  The door to ours was broken, so we swapped shelters with the boys. 

Me at the rim in the rain. The view is still incredible.

The world’s largest lava lake shows us its grandeur.

Back up at the peak, we enjoyed the view of the world’s largest lava lake, heard the pops and rumbles it makes and felt a bit of the tremendous heat it puts out.  Mark learned that there are 282 million cubic feet of lava in this crater.   For a brief time, the experience was sublime.

As we watched it began to rain.  We hoped it would be short lived, but it was not.  Hamish fetched ponchos he had brought and we put them on, although we were already wet.  There are 12 shelters on 3 levels, with the canteen being in the top row next to the ridge.  We carefully walked over the jagged rocks to it and received a large mug of very hot squash soup from the white-coated chef – a nice touch in spite of the outlandish location.   We, along with several others, huddled under the overhang of the shelter next to the canteen and tried, unsuccessfully, to stay dry.  Dinner was to come later, but only Hamish stayed up for it.  The rest of us went back to the ridge to watch the lake glow red in the dimming light.  We watched until it was totally dark and we were all soaked and getting cold.   We had our torches with us and Mark helped me down to our shelter on the 3rd and lowest level.  It was only 7:30, but there was nothing to do but get out of our wet clothes and go to bed. 

Noriko takes a photo of me in our small, leaky shelter. It was a long night.

Noriko and I considered the long night ahead on thin mattresses in strange sleeping bags in the cold, pitch black A frame shelter at 11,000 feet and accepted our fate.  Quickly, we peed near the shelter with our ponchos still on and used our torches to organize ourselves in the tiny space.  Once in bed, it took awhile to find a comfortable position and warm up.  Soon, I heard Noriko’s soft breathing and knew she was asleep.  I laid there listening to the rain.  Finally, there was a lull and I quickly put on my shoes and stepped out into the dark to find a place to pee again.  When I got back inside, it was 9pm.  Back in the bag, I settled onto my good ear and was soon asleep myself.  About 1am, Noriko was up and moving all around the space and finally woke me up to tell me the shelter was leaking and her bed was all wet.  She did not know what to do and I could only offer my extra pair of dry socks, which I had brought jus in case I needed them.  I, luckily, was not in the path of the leak and was snug as a bug in a rug.   As I drifted back to sleep, she was sitting up and trying to stay dry, though not warm or comfortable.  Eventually, she moved her mattress next to mine and curled up in the top half of her bag, which was not wet.  At 5:30, someone banged on our door and said breakfast was ready. 

We wasted no time in getting dressed in our still wet clothing and getting out of the shelter.  Gratefully, the rain had stopped.  

Monday, April 2, 2018  

 I hiked back up to the ledge and looked down into the lava lake one last time. 

Looking over the shoulder of a hiker. We share the experience one last time.

It was still reddish in the early morning light.  Then back at the canteen, I had a coffee and some toast with a piece of cheese.  Having gone all night with only a cup of soup, I was hungry.  Everyone was packing up to head down the hill. 

Bosco, the porter who helped me up the hill, showed up to help me down. Noriko’s porters have already started helping her.

Apparently others had also had unpleasant, wet nights and wanted to get to hot showers and clean, dry clothing as soon as possible. 

The hikers begin their long journey down the volcano. The helicopter looks far away.

As we negotiated the cliff face back to the helicopter, several folks wished they could fly away with us.  I could not blame them.  Once Hamish lifted us off our perch, we floated down the mountain and back to Mikena Lodge for hot showers, clean clothes and breakfast, all before the hikers were barely an hour from the top with 4 more hours to go.  Having a helicopter at our disposal is an incredible treat we will never forget.  

Mark makes it to our bird first.  The tail hangs off the edge.

It is now April 3rd.  Mark and I are at the Protea Hotel in Entebbe, betting ready to leave Africa and head for Amsterdam.  I have nearly finished writing about our time in the Congo and hope to have it completed within a few days.  Meanwhile, here is the chapter about the country that will give you some background.  We are both well and sorry to be leaving Africa.  We have loved our experiences in these three countries in spite of the various difficulties encountered.  Hopefully, you are enjoying reading about them too.

About the Democratic Republic of the Congo

There is a lot to say about the Democratic Republic of the Congo and I will try to be concise. The country is located in south central Africa with a narrow connection to the Atlantic Ocean via the Congo River, which runs through the entire country and provided the country with its name. It is 1.59 times the size of Alaska and is the second largest country in Africa and the 11th largest in the world. It is bordered by nine countries: the Central African Republic and South Sudan to the north; Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi and Tanzania to the east; Zambia to the south; Angola to the southwest and the Republic of the Congo and the Atlantic Ocean to the west. With a population over 78 million, it is the most populated officially francophone country, the fourth most-populated nation in Africa and the 17th most populated country in the world.

It was first settled by humans about 90,000 years ago, as proven by found artifacts. Bantu people settled in the region in the 5th and 10th centuries. The Kingdom of the Kongo ruled from the 14th to the 19th centuries. In the 1870s, Henry Morton Stanley led the way for European exploration of the Congo under the sponsorship of King Leopold II of Belgium. Somehow Leopold acquired rights to the Congo in 1885 and made the land his private property. How rude was that? He named it the Congo Free State and allowed, or maybe hired, the colonial military Unit, Force Publique, to force the local population into producing rubber from 1885 to 1908. Millions of Congolese died from disease and exploitation. Finally, Belgium was embarrassed into annexing the Free State, which then became the Belgium Congo. In 1960 the Begium Congo achieved independence under the name Republic of the Congo.  The Belgians fled the country, leaving their large estates behind.

The first elected president and prime minister did not last long as the Army Chief of Staff, one Joseph-Desire Mobutu, gained de facto control through a coup d’etat the same year. In 1965, Mobutu officially took power through a second coup. He changed his name to Mobutu Sese Seko and, in 1971, changed the name of the country to Zaire. He ran the country as a one party dictatorship and received considerable support from the USA due to his anti-communist stance during the cold war. In the early 90s, his government began to weaken. Destabilization in eastern Zaire resulting from the Rwandan genocide and disenfranchisement among the eastern Congolese Tutsi population led to a 1996 invasion by Tutsi ruled Rwanda, which began the First Congo War. The war led to the end of Mobutu’s 32 year rule.

In May 1997, Laurent-Desire Kabila, a Tutsi leader, became President. He immediately changed the name back to the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Tensions between Kabila and the Rwandan and Tutsi presence in the country led to the Second Congo War from 1998 to 2003. Ultimately nine African countries and 20 armed groups became involved in the war, resulting in the deaths of 5.4 million people. Kabila was assassinated in January 2001 and a week later his son, Joseph Kabila, succeeded him as President. He called for multilateral peace talks. UN peacekeepers arrived and negotiations finally resulted in a peace accord in 2003. By mid year all foreign armies except those of Rwanda, had left the Congo. A transitional government was set up, a constitution was approved and multi-party elections were held in July 2006. The election was disputed and fighting broke out in the capital, Kinshasa. The UN took control of the city. A new election took place in October. Kabila won and was sworn in as President in December, 2006. He set up a commission to reduce corruption and began implementing economic reforms. In spite of his efforts, very little improved for the people.

Conflicts and uprisings continued to take place. In 2009, The New York Times reported that people in the Congo continued to die at a rate of 45,000 per month, due mainly to widespread disease and famine. Reports indicated that almost half of the deaths were children under the age of 5. One study found that more than 400,000 women were raped every year in the DRC. The two wars devastated the country. Together they are considered the bloodiest war since WWII. By 2015, major protests broke out across the country and protestors demanded that Kabila step down. However, he did not step down at the end of his term, as promised, and insists on staying on until elections are held. The date for elections has changed and dragged on. Protests continue. Currently the election is scheduled for December 2018.  No one is optimistic that the election will actually occur or that the results will be satisfying, if it does occur.

Located on the equator, the Democratic Republic of the Congo has a tropical climate that produced the Congo River system which dominates the region topographically along with the rainforest it flows through. The river basin occupies nearly the entire country and forms the backbone of Congolese economics and transportation. The river has the second largest flow and the second longest watershed of any river in the world, trailing the Amazon in both respects. The river and a 23 mile wide strip of coastline on its north bank provide the country’s only access to the Atlantic. The volcanically active Albertine Rift passes through the very mountainous northeaster section of the country. Geologic activity created the Great Rift Valley and the chain of African Great Lakes (Albert, Kivu, Edward and Tanganyika). The Rift valley has exposed an enormous amount of mineral wealth throughout the south and east of the Congo, making it accessible to mining. Cobalt, copper, cadmium, diamonds, gold, silver, zinc, manganese, tin, germanium, uranium, radium, bauxite, iron ore and coal are all found in in plentiful supply. The Congo is considered the most biodiverse African country and one of the world’s richest countries in natural resources. You can begin to imagine the wealth this country possesses in natural resources that are mostly untapped and not providing jobs or infrastructure or health or education or anything else for the people of the region, whose per capita GDP is nearly the lowest in the world. Such a shame. Its untapped deposits of raw minerals are estimated to be worth 24 trillion, according to Wikipedia.

Friday, March 23, 2018

After a lovely afternoon and evening at the Hilton Hotel in N’Djamena with internet and wifi and a delightfully clean, cool swimming pool, I was up late on the 21st getting my Chad post out as well as the information post on Cameroon. Shortly after going to bed the cramps hit me and I spent most of the rest of the night in the bathroom. Some anti-diarrheal meds finally curbed the situation, but I was completely exhausted the entire next day.

The drive from N’Djamena to Bangor was long, very hot and bumpy. The bus we were in had no suspension and our driver felt obliged to nearly stop for every bump in the potholed asphalt road. On top of that the AC quit after a short time and we all struggled with the heat. Our new guide, a Spanish native named Willie who has lived in Cameroon for 20 years, wanted to please us with sightseeing stops. All I wanted to do was get to the next hotel and go to bed. However, we stopped for a cluster of Musgum tribal houses, that looked like tall bee hives with stucco finish inside and out. A little later on we stopped for a good sized road side market. I stayed in the bus. Just too hot for me to manage. While in the bus, many people passed by and I got a few photos without having to move. I saw one boy pouring a small portion of what looked like moonshine for an old lady, who drank it right down. Once he saw me watching him he walked away. Wonder how brisk his old lady sales are.

Back on the road it felt like the bumps got deeper and bigger and the bus went slower the further we got from the city. Around 2:45 the driver stopped so he and the other muslims traveling with us could pray. That was only a 10 minute stop. I noticed that no one asked about lunch or for a bathroom stop until 4pm. In spite of drinking lots of water the heat was dehydrating us and we had no appetite. About 4:30 we pulled into the Hotel Moderne of Bongor. Modern it was not. Every one had problems with their room. We had a major hole in the bathtub and had to carefully watch where to stand not to fall into it while taking a shower that had one temperature – tepid. Meanwhile, the water in the sink went directly through the sink onto the floor. Our AC worked when the power was on, but that was intermittent. Dinner, the first of many identical meals provided for us in Chad, consisted of fried chicken cut in strange pieces, fish in a tomato and onion stew, rice, french fries, green salad, dried bread and fresh fruit for dessert. None of us touched the salad, even though we agreed that it looked good. I ate some rice and fruit and went to bed.
Even though the whole hotel was dirty and even the sheets on our bed were not clean, I was too tired to care. I dropped off about 8pm and woke up around 2 when I got hot because the AC was off. Fortunately the power was on, I got the AC going again and dropped off again. Then at 4am the power went off for good. Fortunately the night had cooled down some and we were able to continue sleeping.

This morning, Friday, the 23rd we were all up and at breakfast at 7. Everyone had a tale to tell about their night at the Moderne. I felt grateful to have had a good night’s sleep and be functioning again. Back on the same bus, we pass through Bangor, which was not much of a town, got to the TChad immigration station on the banks of the Logon River and spent a hour waiting for the police to stamp our passports. While waiting, Willie told us the tall statuesque people we were seeing belong to the Massa Tribe, which dominates this part of Chad and Cameroon and are largely fishermen. The women wear skirts and tops made from colorful fabrics that look similar to styles we remembered seeing in Dakar years ago. Once those formalities were over we walked to the edge of the river and climbed into a long, thin motorized pirogue to cross the placid quarter mile wide, but shallow river. At the top of the river bank, we went through another 45 minutes of waiting for the Cameroon immigration police to review and stamp our passports. We were each asked what we did before we declared ourselves retired. We all contemplated fantastical occupations but settled for something plausible when our turn came.

Shortly after 10am, we climbed into a new bus. Wow!   Great AC, good suspension and, even better, a good, dirt road. We passed by many small farms where people were tending vegetable gardens before the day gets too hot. Suddenly we stopped at a new cluster of Musgum Tribal houses. This tribe is made up mostly of farmers and they seem to get on fine with the Massa people. The clothing on the Massa ladies tending these houses, was equally colorful and dressy. One handsome woman gave us a tour of the houses, which are on display for tourists and not inhabited. Current houses are larger and more contemporary.

Toupouri women doing a traditional tribal dance at the culture center near the Chad border.

Not long after that stop we arrived at a small museum and Cultural Center where local dancers from a third tribe, Toupouis, were expecting us and had several performances planned. There were three groups of women dancers and one group of men.

One of the happy dancers and her baby

The women wore costumes and danced to bongo drumming and gourd rattling music. the small male group each played a different antler horn. The sound was quite musical and it was interesting to watch the men play. A small museum of old and not so old artifacts had a few interesting pieces: shields that also function as doors to dwellings and nicely carved iron bracelets caught my eye.

Our next stop was to visit a Sultan,(chief) who was also expecting us and invited us into his home for drinks and sesame seed balls, made with sticky water to hold them together in a ball. Tasty. The Sultan, has been appointed the Administrator of the area and oversees civil disputes. He had several young boys demonstrate their horsemanship to us and showed us a building the Germans built in the 1850’s that he says he will remodel into a nice new palace..…one day. Wishful thinking.

Then lunch at a restaurant near the Sultan’s home. The meal was a copy of dinner the night before, with an avocado and tomato salad we all felt safe eating. Then we hit the road about 2:30 for a long 4+ hour drive to Garoua. At first the road was good and the roadside was free of plastic and trash, but after an hour, as we entered the Moudang tribal area, the road deteriorated and the trash increased until it was nearly everywhere. Am not sure there is any relationship.

About 2 hours into the ride, a sand storm from the south, called a harmatanm, came up that nearly blocked out the light. When it passed, rain began and continued intermittently for over an hour. When it was done the temperature had dropped considerably and we actually turned down the AC. The landscape is still nearly flat with occasional ancient volcanic hills popping up above the terrain. Much of the land has been farmed and the many cotton and millet fields are fallow as the locals wait for planting season, which begins in May, just before the big rains come in June. The same with large bundles of thatch, which are leaning against nearly every building we pass. Everyone gathers the thatch and waits to put it on their roofs until just before the rains. Everyone pitches in and helps each other get the work done. Sure a lot to do just before the rains hit.

After dark we pull into Garoua and make it to the Hotel La Tour D’Argent just in time for dinner, which was…yep…the same as lunch and dinner the night before. I ate some rice and fruit. At this rate I will loose a bunch of weight. Mark is not eating much either. The room is small, but much cleaner that the Modern Hotel the night before and the power and AC work. The bathroom is a trip. When the hotel was built, showers must not have been included in the plans. All the rooms now have exposed plumbing with a hot water heater perched above the shower head. When you are using the shower, the toilet next to it gets wet along with you and the floor. On request we thankfully received a second towel. The double bed we had to share was very firm, so we did not roll into each other. The pillow was equally solid and firm. We were both glad we had our blow up pillows. Except for actually getting too cold, we were comfortable and slept reasonably well.

Saturday, March 24, 2018

By 7:30 I was hungry and glad to have freshly cooked scrambled eggs, bread and coffee. Our new guide, Wandji, arrived in time to tell us what our next plans include. First we will drive 3.5 hours to the village of Poli in the Faro Valley south of Garoua. About 2 hours on potholed asphalt and 1.5 hours over very rough dirt roads to the village. Then we will spend time visiting the Saturday market in the village, before continuing the short drive to Camp Bukaru, where we have lunch and check out our individual round, brick and thatched roof abode, home for the night.

It all came to pass as Wandji said. Along the way to Poli, we bought 6 mangoes for 300 francs (about 75 cents) and passed a couple of police check points with no problems. Abdoul had made sure our papers were in good order. Wandji talked about Cameroon as we drove along. It takes about 1000 francs to buy a good meal, but most people earn only 500 francs a day. In the country people grow their own food to get by. City dwellers are dependent on food coming from rural areas and need a good job to pay for necessities. He thinks that 200,000 francs per month is what it takes to have a home and a comfortable life and believes 40% of the population is able to manage this. Mark and I both question the percentage. Fuel is expensive. Even though Cameroon exports oil, and the government subsidizes it, the cost at the pump is 650 francs per liter, a little over $1.00. In Liberia it is only 200 francs. Primary school is free and compulsory and supposedly 80% of the population is literate. Secondary school is not free, but affordable by many families. The government will provide high school scholarships for students who demonstrate superior ability. What we saw were many empty looking schools and lots of school age kids on the streets and wondered if the problem is lack of teachers and supplies. Meanwhile, health care is not free. Only people with AIDS and pregnant women and small children with malaria receive free medical treatment. Doctors and hospitals are expensive for everyone.

18 wheeler enroute to Poli with soft drinks. Very bad road.

As we neared Poli, the dirt track was a rollercoaster of continuous potholes, that made our ranch roads seem like a superhighway. The only other traffic was an 18 wheeler headed for Poli with a load of soft drinks. Very slowly we followed it until there was just enough room to squeeze around it.

A Mbororo woman at the market in Poli. Notice the tattoos and scarification on her head.

The Poli market was colorful, if not large, and was clearly a place for young people to make contact with each other. It is also a tribe of people that use facial tattoos as a beautification technique.

One of several pretty women at the weekly Poli market, where young people come to socialize.

French is spoken by most as well as tribal languages. Although the country is officially bilingual, we have not encountered any English speakers so far.

Another colorful lady who kept everyone laughing.

We managed to get a few good photos before the heat got to us and we climbed back in the bus, wishing we could spend the night in it. Wandji tells us that 75% of the population in Cameroon is Christian, 25% is Muslim and 100% is Animist.

The camp has 11 cottages and we are the only guests. After a wonderful lunch of hot pasta with meat sauce and fresh watermelon and mango, I finally felt pleasantly full, with no queasiness in my tummy. Now it is nap time until 5pm.

Mark showing a Mbororo boy his photo.

From camp, Abdoul took us for a walking visit to several nomad huts. The people we meet are part of the Mbororo Tribe.

A Mbororo village scene. THe woman is cooking Mealy pop, their version of grits. A typical hut is behind.

Each couple of huts is home to a family and a hundred feet or so from the next family. In each case a woman was busy preparing the evening meal, while kids stared at us and tried to sell us beaded jewelry and the men posed for photos.

A young Mbororo girl and her sibling.

The women are much more reticent about us taking photos even after they see what it looks like.

A teenage girl shows us her tattoos and her scarification that marks her as a Mbororo woman.

The women all have tribal scarification along their hair line as well as facial tattoos. For them it is a mark of beauty. The young women are indeed quite pretty.

A Mbororo mother feeding her baby. I got a photo with a mixed signal.

Mbororo wealth posing in the setting light

Back at camp, our dinner was a spinach and beef concoction that looked OK, but did not sit well with me. I had watched the lady preparing it and cleaning the greens in local water and should have know better. However, I was the only one who had a GI reaction. Back on anti-diarrheal pills. Am sure glad we remembered to bring them. It was a long, hot night. At 5am I was happy to have a cold shower.

Sunday, March 25, 2018

Stale bread, jelly and hot water with Nescafe was breakfast. At 7am we gladly departed Camp Bukara. We were in the air conditioned bus only a half hour, but it felt good. Then we began a 4 mile hike to spend the day and night with the Dupa Tribe who live in the hills off the beaten path. We have come a long way for this experience and hope it will be worth the trouble.

Our first encounter with Dupa people. The women are shelling ground nuts and the man is spinning cotton yarn.

After about 3 miles we crest a hill and find three people sitting under a tree. The man is wearing a loose top and shorts and is spinning cotton into yarn. The two women are naked, except for green leaves gathered in front and back at the waist. They sit shucking ground nuts into a large bowl made from a gourd. They seemed unperturbed by our presence and continued their work. We were surprised, but tried to act as if nothing was amiss and waited for the rest of our group and our guide to catch up. Wandji informed us that these were 3 Dupa people who were waiting for us and we were welcome to take photos.

The approach to the Dupa Village

After spending some time with them, we continued our walk to their village, arriving about 10am just ahead of the heat. There we met 20 or so other tribe members and were shown the shady place they had prepared for us to use as a camp site. It turns out Abdul, our logistics guy, knew the tribe and was able to communicate with them and get us invited to spend time with them.

The Dupa VIllage Elder, who claims to be 104, welcomes us to his village.

Although we felt awkward, we were invited to watch the village elder counsel a couple village members, who each paid him with a chicken for his service as a healer. Then he offered to counsel each of us.

The Elder accepting a chicken in exchange for counseling the man about his health.

He showed us one of the tools of his trade; a bowl with water, a few rocks, a sea shell, a piece of cactus and a small ball that floated. He stirred the water and the contents with his finger, pulled out 2 items and handed them to each of us in turn. We held them in our closed palm for a minute and handed them back to him. He returned them to the bowl and swirled it with his finger again and then smiled and motioned to each of us that we were welcome and shook our hands. Silly, but serious to him and his tribe. While he was “counseling” each of us, we were told that he is 104 years old and that he remembered being a porter for the Germans when Cameroon was under their control. We all thought he looked to be a very strong and healthy 50-70 year old at best. No where near 104.

The Dupa Elder, his 15 year old son and the flute player.

He proudly introduced us to his son, who is about 15, also strong and healthy, but still without facial hair. Once he has face hair he will be considered an adult and must leave his parent’s home and form his own family unit, although he does not need to move far away.

Our camp next to the Dupa Village. Took this photo in the early morning.

There being nothing else happening, we organized our lunch of rice and canned vegetables and tuna. Not exciting, but edible. Then we set up our campsite with tents, bed rolls and supplies that had been carried in by people Abdul had hired. We wiled away the day watching the Dupa go about their day.

The process of making Sorgum beer.

One woman, who seemed to be in charge, went about the process of making sorghum beer with jugs of water carried from the nearby creek drainage and sorghum. She poured the mixture into a cloth sieve and squeezed the liquid through the cloth, then added another mixture and did it again, the squeezed the cloth very tightly and emptied the remaining contents into another bowl. She repeated the process over and over until she had make a at least 2 gallons of the beer. Then the beer was heated over an open fire and something I could not identify was added. She stuck her whole arm into the pot to stir the contents thoroughly. It could not have been too warm as it had not cooked very long. Then she scooped a large portion into a bowl for the elder, who slurped it down with gusto. He offered us some, but got no takers. Wandji told us the beer should be left to ferment for several days to give it more kick. Apparently, the family did not want to wait.

It was then mid-afternoon and the village grew quiet as people napped, so we did too. After awhile, I wandered around the village and encountered 3-4 individual family compounds, clustered near the communal space we occupied. The houses, or huts, were each about 12 feet in diameter and made of mud and bricks with pitched straw roofs and a door opening. One such hut was clearly for women and children only. Here there was more activity. The women sat around chatting as they did chores and prepared the evening meal. Everyone appeared to be healthy. Some were even plump. All of them had lovely, lustrous skin, strong muscles and great posture. They were comfortable within themselves and seemed happy with their life style. We learned that they are animist and believe in living in tune with nature, which means that they wear as little covering as possible and live a simple existence using very few things from the modern world. The only store bought items I saw were bullion cubes for flavoring, oil to cook with and cigarettes. They live a day’s walk from the nearest market and can sell and buy goods there.

Fetching water at the nearby creek. They have lined the area with rocks and sand to keep it clean.

There were corrals for their cattle and for fields for raising their vegetables. I wandered all around looking for their source of water, but did not find it until a couple of ladies headed out with empty pots on their heads. So I followed them and sure enough, just where I had not looked, was a small, but clean, clear. cool source of creek water. Each of their gourds looked like it could hold a couple of gallons of water.

Two young ladies returning with water.  We were told that the one woman’s breasts were badly damaged from a fire when she was little.  She is lucky to be alive.

Once they had filled them, using smaller gourds as scoops, the stronger one helped the other lift her gourd onto her head, then hoisted her own gourd and off they walked back to the village, about a hundred yards away.

I watched and smiled as they sautéed onions and bullion cubes in some oil and then boiled water to make mealy pop, the African version of cooked grits we have seen in many countries on this continent. I was very sorry not to be able to communicate with the women. It was clearly a lost opportunity. I can only imagine the stories they could have shared. From our guide we were able to learn that there are 12 families in this small area and 52 Dupa communities like this one with around 1000 people living in the Poli Valley. Infant mortality is high, so the population does not increase much. Their only source of medical treatment comes from the village elder, who offers advice only. There are no school education and no conveniences. They truly live in and with nature.

The Dupa men sharing dinner.

The Dupa ate their meal before dark. The men ate separately from the women and children. Each group ate with their hands from one bowl.

The women and children sharing their evening meal.

After the meal, they brought out their musical instruments and prepared to dance. While they made preparations, we had our dinner of spaghetti with a stewed chicken sauce that was prepared by one of our porters. It was one of the chickens that had been given to the elder by one of the men he counseled. We had been suspicious when we saw a plate of feathers being carried out of the camp area. They certainly killed it quietly as we did not hear a peep from the bird.

The ladies lined up ready to dance.  The one with the green cloth is carrying her baby.

Then the music and dancing began. Their instruments included a drum, a cow bell like gong, a home made flute and their voices. They could make about 4 different sounds or tones. They were not dancing for us, as I originally thought, but for them selves as this is their ceremony for the start of the seed planting season. We were clearly incidental to their activity and they payed almost no attention to us.

The women led the singing and seemed to choose which song and dance would come next.

Dancing the Dupa way.

It was all a bit monotonous to my ear, but the dance steps changed subtly and the songs varied as well. They continued until well after dark with only a small fire for light. Before they were done, we had all retired to our tents at 7:30 and were contemplating how we would get through the night on the hard ground with little water and only nature for our needs. After the music and dancing stopped, about 8:30, the women seemed to get into a row with each other and there was a lot of shouting among them. One of the children broke into tears and the place was a racket for about 30 minutes. Finally, the whole place grew quiet and we settled in for the long night. I took pills to help sleep and actually felt rested in the morning. This was the only day we did not travel and proved to be our most interesting experience in Cameroon.

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

Yesterday was a travel day. We flew on Air France from London to Paris, waited a few hours, then caught a 5+ hour flight to N’Djamena, the capital of Chad, which is called TChad by the locals. The airport was small and dated, but functional. The immigration agent was very pleasant and understood a fair amount of English. He was curious about why we wanted to come to Chad and accepted our explanation about coming to visit Zakouma National Park. We had no trouble getting our bags; however, we ended up waiting a hour for the Hilton Hotel driver to find us and collect the rest of our group. Once we got outdoors, we were pleased to notice that the temperature was a comfortable 80 or so degrees. We were all tired and kept to ourselves for the 45 minute ride into town.
The capital is basically a large town, with mostly low rise buildings in various states of disrepair. There were very few lights along the way and very few people on the streets. The road to town was divided with only one half paved. It felt like a country village rather than a capital city. Arriving at the Hilton was a real treat. It was brightly lit and looked like a Hilton in any US city. Our room was

Arrival at Camp Nomad in Zakouma National Park.

large, clean, comfortable and, best of all, had great AC. For some reason I had prepared myself for a third rate hotel and was surprised to find a first rate experience.

We did not get to enjoy it very long, however, as we had to be up at 4:30 and out by 5:15 to catch our charter flight to the park. With 8 guests and 2 guides, we filled the plane. Weight was an issue and there was too much. The guides graciously gave up some of their baggage so none of us had to.
This was the reason we were told to keep our luggage soft sided and less than 33 pounds including carry ons. Neither one if us made it, but we were close. We flew 2 hours southeast of N’Djamena over scrub and desert and arrived at Zakouma at 9am. Watched the plane be unloaded, refueled and depart with the group whose place we took. Then we climbed into stadium seating Toyota Land Cruisers and began our first game drive.

Black, Crowned Crane roost here by the thousands. Very pretty on the ground and in flight.

By now the temp was heating up and I would have preferred to go directly to camp, but the drive proved to very exciting in spite of the heat. We saw a great number of birds and small animals in the three hours of the drive.

Kordofan Giraffe. They are unique to this Park.

We drove through scrub and wetland planes seeing the expected African animals: wart hog, Lewelle’s hartebeest, roan antelope, Bohrhor reedbock, water buck, baboons and, of all things, 2 ostrich. Unique to this park were: Kordofan giraffe, Buffon cobb, tiang antelope, tsessebe antelope and savannah buffalo.

Savannah Buffalo. Another species uniques to this park.

The bird life is remarkable in its diversity and quantity. Most especially were the millions of red-billed quelea, multitudes of spur winged geese and black crowned cranes. We saw many Goliath heron, cattle egrets and yellow-billed kites, In small numbers were Green beeeaters, Yellow-billed storks, Sacred Ibis, Tawny eagles, Abissinian Rollers, red-billed hornbill, Pied Crows, Spoon-billed storks, Long crested eagle, black headed heron, a Lappett-faced vulture, a Fish eagle, and others I can’t recall.

Lunch in the community tent.

Finally, we pulled into Camp Nomad, washed our hands at a stand next to the dining area and went directly to lunch. Although I really wanted to get to the room, clean up and try to get cool, I went to lunch as requested. The camp was in a shady spot and very charmingly laid out with all tents facing a lush wetland full of birds and small animals. The public area was arranged with mats, lounge seating and a dining table and chairs under a thatched roof. No walls. 10 tents were arranged in a row with half on either side of the public area. By the time lunch was finished, I was boiling and had a headache.

Our tent at Camp Nomad. Quite spacious and comfortable, except during the afternoon heat.  The bathroom was through the screened wall on the left.

The temperature had climbed to 107 degrees. Although the tent consists of woven carpets on the floor and mosquito netting for walls and roof, there is nothing cool about the place. I laid down to try to rest, but the bed was hot. Eventually we both fell asleep for awhile and woke up sweating profusely. So we got up and sat outside in chairs on our front porch. Thankfully my headache was gone. Both of us drank copious amounts of water.

At 4pm we gathered again for another game drive. The air was starting to cool and we felt less miserable. By sunset and sundowners we were comfortable, and enjoyed the comradery among the group members, all of whom are very well traveled, especially in Africa. We continued the drive until 7pm – well after dark, spotting gannets and bush babies along the way.

A reedbuck, nursing her baby.

Back at camp, Mark and I made a beeline to our tent for a shower. We were allotted one bucket per person, but neither of us wanted to wait so we shared the one bucket and took turns standing under it. It sure felt good to get clean and feel almost cool. With clean clothes on, we felt human again and ready for dinner at 7:30. Now it is bed time and I am ready for a good night, listening to animal sounds in the dark before dropping off to sleep. 5am will come too soon.

Thursday, March 15, 2018

We were all up and out by 5:30 for coffee and on the road at 6am. It was cool enough to wear a fleece. The view from our camp site is so full of bird and small animal life that one hardly needs to venture away. Fortunately we did and not long after leaving camp, we spotted 3 lions: a female walking alone followed by 2 brothers drinking at a watering hole. They all looked very healthy and comfortable. The 2 males, small maned as an adaptation to the heat, walked right by us as we clicked away on our cameras, before they plopped down in the shade and went to sleep. We saw many of the same creatures as yesterday and found ourselves mesmerized by a quelea show that did not stop. Millions of the small brownish birds fly in waves around and among the trees and bushes. We could hear the sound of the birds calling each other and the beating sound of their many wings. Experiences like this are what draw us back to Africa over and over.

Back at camp, we had a light breakfast and headed for the Park Headquarters about 30 minutes drive away. We met the Jerome, the park’s operation manager, and his staff. He ushered us into the “Command center” where African Parks keep track of the movements of the elephants in the park, control for poachers and monitor fires, most of which, sadly, are set by arsonists. African Parks is a non profit organization that has been awarded the the sole mandate to manage Zakouma National Park, along with 13 other equally threatened parks on the continent. It provides a glimmer of hope in the darkness.

Gerome is an unusual person of French descent, who has lived mostly in Australia and came to Chad 18 months ago with his wife to do the difficult job of increasing the number of animals in the park, especially elephant; eliminating poaching as much as possible; and training the local people to learn and do the work themselves. He showed us a map that indicates where the elephant are currently located. 40 of them have collars and are easy to track. For the last 4 years all the elephant have stayed in the park, which indicates that they are less stressed. Their numbers have increased from 443 in 2010 to 510 in 2017. A new census will be done in a few weeks. He expects the numbers to increase by at least 5%. The last poaching occurred in 2016. They are doing a good job, but do not stop every poacher. In the 60’s, elephant numbers were estimated to be above 300,000. Poaching gradually became an epidemic. There was so much poaching that 900 animals were killed every year until 2010. Finally the Chadian government wanted the poaching stopped and thus began the effort, whereby African Parks and the Chadian government embarked upon an ambitious conservation project to save the park from extinction. In addition to the command center staff, there are 3 mamba (sniper) teams of 10 each, who take turns patrolling the park; and 6 horse teams that take turns being with the elephants at all times. It costs 3 million a year to operate the park and much of the funds come from tourists like us. All their supplies come from South Africa.

On the 3rd of May 2018, the park will receive 6 black rhino from South Africa with a plan to bring in an additional 14 next year. They are each tagged and will have their horns removed in hope that they will not be killed. This is a new attempt to grow the park. There will be new people hired to monitor these new animals and Gerome hopes to get a drone to assist in keeping an eye on them. He was pleased to report that 2 female muslim employees are on staff. After spending a hour with us, it was clear that he needed us to leave so he could get back to work.

We drove back to camp for a late lunch and then had the afternoon free. Mark relaxed and I wrote. At 5:30 we drove a short distance away from camp to have sundowners.

A sundowner around a campfire. Kingsley red from his notes for the day. He is very poetic.

The sun had already set, but the staff built a camp fire and set out chairs for all of us. Kingsley read his written thoughts for the day, as he did the first day and says he will do every day. He is pretty philosophical and serious about Africa and how to make it a better place for the people who call Africa home. I made a video of his comments this evening and will share them with whoever is interested.

Back at camp, the staff had set up dinner out under the stars and we had a lovely time eating and visiting. Slowly, everyone is getting acquainted. I now have everyone’s first names and a bit about most of them. What I have learned is that everyone in the group has traveled extensively around the world as well as in Africa. Mark and I are fit somewhere in the middle of the pack. Several are like us in not having children or spouses to slow us down. Mark and I are the only couple. Everyone else is traveling alone, although at least one is married. I will share more about them as I get better acquainted. We both took showers before going to bed. I did not mind that the water was cool, except I could not wash my hair and get it rinsed properly. So I went to bed with a dirty head. At least most of me was clean. I woke up a few times during the night to the sound of a lion calling. Each time the sound seemed closer. I hoped I might see the animal, but then I went back to sleep.

Friday, March 16, 2018

This morning was leisurely. We did not get up until day light at 5:30am. Thank goodness we did. The quelea put on a spectacular show right in front of the rising sun, directly outside our tent. It is like watching a huge school of sardines swim in waves and be circled by dolphins who swim up through them to capture their filI. With the quelea, it is kites who fly through the center of the quelea waves and pick off birds as they go. I don’t know how better to explain it. This morning, there were no kites. Just the little birds paying homage to the new day.

Clarisse, a secondary school student with her elephant art work. Most had never done any art before.

Today, after breakfast, we drove to the nearest village, called GozD’jarat, to do an art project with secondary school children in the school built by African Parks, called the Elephant School. A brain child of our guide, Kingsley Holgate, this project is to teach the children about the plight of elephants, what has happened to them ,and how conservation of elephants is important to the children’s own survival. Each child is given a black and white outline of a mother and baby elephant with a lot of white space around them, a list of facts about elephants and lessons about what they can do to help. We handed out crayons and colored pens and asked the kids to color them however they wanted, add other art as they thought appropriate and write a sentence about what conserving elephants meant to them. We helped them with the project as none of them had used crayons or colored pens or done any kind of art. It was an education for everyone. The students all spoke French, so sign language was required to communicate. Eventually most of them got the drift and completed the project. Kingsley had us select the 2 best “art works” and we each added one more so 12 students received prizes for their work. The prizes consisted of a small notebook, a package of biscuits, a piece of candy, and a drink. The first place winners also received soccer balls. Then everyone assembled outside for a large group photo and Kingsley collected all the art works for use in conservation efforts by African Parks and the Holgate Foundation, started by Kingsley’s family to help and improve lives through adventure and a strong focus on wildlife conservation.

Children who are not attending school are curious about us.

We were all wilted when we climbed back into the vehicles and headed back to camp. The school children and teachers, meanwhile, did not seem the slightest bit uncomfortable. We think it is somewhere around 110F, about as it has been during the middle of each day since we arrived in the park. As no one has a thermometer, we can only say that it is African Hot. New sightings on this outing included a Patas monkey and a Black-headed Gonolek.

Lunch, as with other days, was a selection of salads. The food is reasonable, if not exciting or memorable. Mark and I both took a shower. It felt good, even if the benefit did not last long.

The Lion strikes a peaceful pose.  Later we heard him roar.

We sat by our tent during the hottest 2 hours of the day and tried to think cool. We both considered passing on the afternoon game drive, but knowing we might miss something and be sorry, we mustered and joined the group. We enjoyed the many birds, the huge buffalo herd and several giraffe and baboons. Then we spotted the male lion in the distance and drove to where it was laying with the sun setting behind him. He graced us with a deep call to his friends, who returned the call. By the time he called again, I was ready with the video and recorded his call. Hope it will sound good when i play it back. We stayed with the boy until it was dark than drove back to camp. As luck would have it, we saw his friend laying near the road and got a photo of him too. Then camp called and we returned.

A quick shower, a vodka tonic and we are ready for dinner. The other people in the group include:

Don, a retired gerontologist who spent his career working with elderly people in outpatient clinics doing health screenings and counseling. He is a gentle soul who has an easy going disposition. In addition to traveling extensively, he does volunteer work at the local YMCA and spends a good deal of time with his 16 year old god-daughter, whom he has had a major hand in raising. He lives in Topanga, CA.

The third man, besides Don and Mark, is Brian, who had a long career in the pharmaceutical business, running his own company for a number of years. He was born in Michigan and moved to Tokyo when he was 23. He has lived there ever since with his Japanese wife of 45 years, who, unfortunately, has diabetes and could not travel to Africa and have no access to medicine and hospitals. He is our most extensive traveler, having been to 176 countries, including 36 in Africa. He has us beat by quite a bit.

There are 5 women, all traveling alone, except me. They are Noriko, who is 75, Japanese and lives half her time in Tokyo and the other half in Seattle. Her husband was Fed Ex pilot and the flew around the world visiting 172 countries in a turbo prop bonanza. He died a few years ago and she has kept traveling. She is very gutsy and is the only other member of the group who is going to the DRC with us after Cameroon.

Lois, who is 77 and lives in Utah now that she is retired. She was a college professor at the University of Virginia, for 24 years in the field of applied math. She is really into birding, especially cranes. Her focus on this trip is the Black-crowned Crane. As we have seen the same thousand or more of them every day, she is a happy camper.

Leslie, who is 75, worked for JP Morgan in the banking industry for 17 years before retiring in 2011. Before that she had a very interesting career working for David Rockefeller helping develop his philanthropic ideas and those of his children. She was married twice. Left the first one and lost the second one, who died in 2001, too soon. She lives in New York.

Laurie, who, at 58, is the youngest member in our group. Her career was in Landscape Architecture and she worked in the field for a number of years until her 23 year old son was killed in a motorcycle accident 10 years ago. Fortunately, she has another son, Spencer, who is doing well. She went through a long depression and now is a volunteer board member for an organization called Pease Park Conservancy in Austin, Texas, where she lives. Her grandfather was in the newspaper business and owned the Austin American Statesman and the Waco Tribune Harold among other papers. He sold the business when she was 12 and she has had trust funds ever since, although she chose to make her own way. She loves to travel, but is currently hampered by needing to watch her mother who is 83 and has debilitating Parkinson’s Disease. I certainly understand that situation and the need to buy travel insurance before each trip. At the moment, Mark and I are skipping the insurance, but know we will need to buy it again, as his mother ages.

It is a very interesting group of people in addition to the common bond of travel for all of us. After 3 days, we are getting more deeply acquainted. I hope to learn more about each person.

Saturday, March 17, 2018

At last, a wonderful night’s sleep. All night under the covers with not a single wake up. We are at last on African time. The whole group is very punctual. Everyone is on time for coffee and a light breakfast. At 8:30 we head out on a game drive while enroute to the Saturday market at a place called Kach-Kacha. On the way we saw 5 very full lions lounging under some trees, with the remains of last night’s antelope feast nearby. The group consisted of 2 adults and 3 sub adults. We also saw a Long Crested Eagle, a Red-fronted Gazelle, and a few Abysinian Ground Hornbill as well as a few old male buffalo, who are referred to as Digger Boys. They tend to be solitary, irritable and worth giving a wide birth. The landscape, I have forgotten to mention, is perfectly flat in this center part of Chad. All the way from N’Djamena, it has been so. The altitude is 1,400 feet and the terrain consists of shrinking wetlands, woodlands and scrub. At the moment we are near the end of the dry season and everywhere the ground is dried up and cracked, like a jigsaw puzzle. The only water ways are in the middle of the wetlands and all the birds and animals are congregating near them for sustenance, which is why our camp is located there as well.

We leave the park and drive to Kach-Kacha on the highway, which is a less bumpy one lane gravel road, for half an hour. As we get closer we see people bringing goats, camels and cattle to the market, as well as bags of sorghum and rice and other products. We pass through the market to the protected car park and agree on a plan to visit the market for about an hour and a half. By now it was African Hot and some of us were wilting before we started. At one point my phone quite and flashed a message that it was too hot and needed to cool off before I could continue using it. This was the first time I have seen this screen.

The market at Kach-Kacha

The open air market was packed with literally thousands of people, none of whom seemed to be bothered by the temperature. It was possibly the largest market I have ever visited. Where did all these people come from? Apparently, this is the only market for many miles in any direction, so everyone comes here once a week to do their business. Unfortunately for us, most people here do not like having their photo taken and we were told to enjoy the market without taking photos unless given permission. I did my best and did get a few photos, but nothing like I would have liked. We were absolutely the only tourists and rubber necking was happening in both directions. Although it was hugely crowded with many stalls and vendors, it was not especially colorful. Even the ladies were not as colorfully dressed as we have experienced in other parts of Africa. At one stall, I purchased a string of beads that, I was told, were old and came from Yemen. Sure hope so. They were different from other beads I have purchased and will make an interesting necklace if I can get them strung nicely. I did not plan to buy anything, but it seemed like it would be nice to have a souvenir from Central Africa, even if it is from Yemen. Don’t laugh.

Then, as we were about to leave the market, Kingsley and Brad suggested we eat some goat meat in a local lunch stall. Mark and I were game, as long as we could see the cooked meat. It was served in little pieces with an oil and salt sauce. It was very tasty and not too chewy. We ate several pieces and went back for more. Only Dan, Mark and I joined Brad and Kingsley. No one else wanted to try it. Back at the vehicle, everyone was ready to get back to camp. The driver took a short cut, but it still took us 45 minutes. Once there, we washed and had lunch before heading for the shower. It sure felt good, even if we were hot again in a few minutes.

We sat in our “patio” watching the afternoon Quelea show. I took some video of it to show people as it is very hard to imagine without seeing it in person. It lasts about an hour before the birds dissolve into thin air. We know they roost in shrubs and trees at night, packed so tightly they nearly drag the branches to the ground. When a show starts, they come by the thousands from everywhere. We can hear their wings as they fly overhead. It is an amazing sight. As quickly as it comes, it is gone.

Looking out at the wetland in the late afternoon light, I hear the cacophony of bird calls on the wing, see a few buffalo and many bird still feeding in the wetland and feel the joy of this awesome sight. The heat is starting to abate and I am grateful to be alive and joyful in this place.

Dinner was again served at a lovely table set under the stars. Although the food is nothing to write home about, the conversation is very interesting. Both Kingsley and Brad are great story tellers and all the guests have had experiences everyone enjoys hearing. After we left the table, some of us retired to the fire pit and continued chatting. Mark and I went to bed shortly after 10pm.

Sunday, March 18, 2018.

This morning, another dry sunshiny day with some high cirrus, we went for a walk rather than a drive. I thought it would be rather boring, but was surprised to find myself immediately engaged in Brads commentary about termite mounds and how they work, barely after we left camp. Turns out a queen can live 50 years, laying 30,000 eggs every day. 5% of the termites are soldiers, who are fed by worker termites and are always out patrolling. The rest are made for one particular task or another. There may be as many as 11 kilometers of tunnels the workers build and maintain in order to keep the mound at a constant 30 degrees celsius.

Along the road Brad identified a number of animal prints, their ages, whether it was a right of left foot and other details.

He talked about the gestation of different animals and why they are of different durations. There are basically two kinds of births: altripical births, which require a lot of parental care, such as people, most birds, lions and dogs; and precocial births, where the animal is relatively self-sufficient shortly after birth, such as horses and rhinoceroses.

Then, we walked off road crossing the jigsaw puzzle of broken dried ground. Real ankle breaker walking, which forced me to watch every step. No wonder animals stay on the road, if they can. We took cover behind a downed tree where we could watch a 1000+ herd of savannah buffalo cross the wetland undetected. They were quite lovely with clean, dust free bodies from crossing through the water. Their skin glistening is varying shades of brown, black and caramel. Once across the pan, the lead animal spotted a lion, as did we, and started to turn around. As he did, so did the others around him. It looked like there would be a mass stampede. Then he changed his mind, turned back and purposefully walked toward the lion, picking up his pace as he grew closer. The lion moved off and the herd relaxed. It was a very nice experience we would have missed if we were in the vehicles. Just as we turned away from the buffalo, masses of quelea flew into the area. We witnessed another beautiful and mesmerizing display. It was nice to see it from a different perspective than our camp.
A short walk on and we came upon our staff setting up breakfast for us under a large shady acacia tree. We took our time eating breakfast and enjoying the setting. We had walked about 2 miles in the cooler morning air and, with the increasing heat, were happy to take the vehicles back to camp.

Mark and I took another shower and let the air dry us. Sitting in front of our tent, we listened to the multitude of bird calls. Such a pleasure.

Our “fly” camp on the banks of a croc infested pond. What a loud guttural belch they make!

Lunch was at 12:30 followed by our departure south to another camp for 2 nights, where we hope to see elephant. A long cry hot drive through dense bush with just a few interesting sightings: a giraffe bent over drinking carefully from a stream; a pond full of crocks; our first lone elephant deep in the bush; acacia sahel trees that have red bark, which people burn to extract the sap, which is used as chewing gum; large numbers of buffon cobb antelope that are similar to, but larger than, reedbuck antelope, which we saw in smaller numbers; and a lion stalking a pair of worthogs. We crossed the Salamat River over a dry bed. After a long, hot afternoon, we arrived at our”fly” camp on the banks of a crocodile infested pond in the southern half of Zakouma Park. Our Nyumbani (Swahili for home) for the next two nights.

A bank of Carmine Bee Eaters tending their nests or holes. They were on the bank opposite our “fly” camp.

In addition to the crocks, we were entertained by hundreds of Carmine bee eaters flying in and out of their mud homes in the river bed on the opposite side of the pond, by Egyptian Plovers, red throated bee eaters, and a Pied Kingfisher, trying to swallow a fish whole. Eventually it succeeded after banging the fish on a tree limb for a good ten minutes.

We all took turns taking showers in a grass walled, one bucket shower, ate goat stew in the dark by the campfire and listened to the crocks make a guttural burping sound we had never heard before. By 8:30 we were all ready to turn in. Our open air tent had two bedrolls on the floor and we were soon asleep after watching the stars for about….a minute. I heard there were lion calls in the night, but I slept through it all.

Monday, March 19, 2018

Frightened, the babies turn toward Mom as the mothers hesitate. We are surprised too.

A breeding herd charges up the river bank toward us, babies in tow.

Up at 5:30 and in the vehicles at 6:30. This is our big day to try to find elephants. As luck would have it, we found a herd of breeding elephants with at least a dozen babies only 20 minutes from camp. They heard us coming before we saw them and they were moving rapidly across the Salamat River and up the bank where we stopped. Many had passed before we were in position with our cameras. They came flying through the area stirring up loads of dust. Some of the mothers stopped and trumpeted at us, a couple actually did a mock charge. We just kept clicking away. It was an awesome sight, for which we are grateful, because these were the only elephants we saw the whole day. We drove all over the southern half of the park in another African Hot day. Several times our drivers had to stop and take a machete to a tree limb that had been pushed over by an elephant and blocked the road. We knew they were around, but we could not find them. We even encountered one of the Mamba groups who protect the elephants from poachers. They had no idea when or where the elephants would appear again.

So, on the edge of a busy pan near the southern boundary of the park, we met up with our staff, who brought a prepared lunch and set it up for us. If it were not for the heat, we would all have enjoyed the afternoon. As it was, we took naps after eating and began the long drive back to the “fly” camp. Apart from a family of banded mongooses and a few wort hogs the park was unusually quiet. We pulled into camp shortly after 4pm and headed for the open bar. No point in rushing for a shower as you will only get hot again and need another one. So we waited until twilight and were more comfortable and less sticky for having held back. By the time we ate dinner, we were sitting in the dark. I think we had stewed chicken with sweep potatoes and rice and cabbage salad. Similar to other meals we have had, but hard to tell in the dark. The conversation was lively as everyone talked about their travels and Kingsley and Brad regaled us with stories of their adventures. The group is very compatible, considering we are all from very different paths in life. Again we turned in by 8:30. I think the heat is wearing us all down.

Tuesday, March 20, 2018.

The night was so warm that we did not use our blankets. This is certainly the warmest night we have experienced. We heard crocodiles, hyenas, lions and baboons carrying on in the dark, but felt safe and secure inside our mosquito net tents. Although we were told we could sleep in, everyone was up by 5:30. By 7am everyone had had breakfast and was in the vehicles ready to had out. Off we went. Too hot to linger. We did stop to watch a herd of buffalo walk to the river’s edge and take long drinks. We’d all have loved to get in the water with them. After 2 hours we arrived at the Park headquarters, where there were three male elephant being watered by the camp staff. We sat in the shade of the park manager’s veranda and leisurely took photos of the elephants sucking up water from a hose. One more lone elephant crossed our path as we left HQ and headed for Camp Nomad. Given that I had been told we would see a large concentration of elephants, I could have been disappointed in our overall elephant experience. However, elephants are so wonderful to watch, we just enjoyed the ones we saw.

Finally, we drove into Camp Nomad about 11am, went straight to our tent and took a shower, undoubtedly not our only one for the day. Our Camp home feels down right luxurious after the “fly” tent experience.  Nevertheless, within minutes we were hot and sticky again. In spite of the heat, everyone gathered for lunch and enjoyed a lively conversation about Kingsley Holgate’s eye glass project called “Right to Sight”. So far his foundation has provided 142,000 readers to people all over the continent. He believes that 90% of the population that have eyesight problems, could be helped significantly just with readers. He hopes to continue delivering reading glasses to every village he passes through. While he was at first a South African adventurer who planed and executed expeditions for fun and exploration, he gradually incorporated humanitarianism into his projects. Today, all his expeditions have a humanitarian purpose. Adventure is a happy by product.

Kingsley Holgate and Brad Hansen, our charming and wonderful leaders.

I, as well as many others, am captivated by his personality, his behavior and his dreams and goals. It is no wonder he has become a household name in Africa. Early in our week together, he told us a story about 7 pebbles. He heard a fifty year old man questioning what to do with his life. So, he picked up 7 pebbles and showed them to the man. He threw 5 of them away, because they represented years already spent. Then he threw the seventh one away, as it represented the uncertain future of old age. Finally, he handed the man the last pebble and told him to use it wisely as it is the only pebble he will have.

Brad Hansen, our safari guide, is, on the other hand, the man of the hour. He is the keeper of the program, the master of coordination and timing. He manages to make people believe they are happy and having a wonderful time, even when they are super hot and don’t quite sure how they feel. He is knowledgeable about all the animals, birds and plants and why things do what they do. Highly educated in guiding, he is also excellent at people management. And to top it off, he has a super sense of humor, not unlike Kingsley’s.

Now we are sitting one last afternoon in front of our Camp Nomad tent in Zakouma National Park. Even has hot as it is, we have thoroughly enjoyed the experience: especially the quelea displays every morning and afternoon, the stampeding elephants with their babies in tow; the multitudes of Black, crowned Cranes flying overhead; the savannah buffalo marching through the wet pan with the leader chasing a lion away; gatherings, called Towers, of Kordofan giraffe posing for our cameras; and the many beautiful birds such as the Carmine Bee-eater, the Abyssinian Roller, the Little Bee-eater, the Grey-headed Kingfisher and many more. We have been the only tourists in the park this whole week and have really loved having the place to ourselves.

Another quelea show. So beautiful and so hard to capture.

Another spectacular quell display with what seems like millions of the little birds.

There is one last game drive this afternoon and we have decided to pass it up. Instead we relaxed and watched another Quelea show from our patio and listened to the cacophony of birds in the late afternoon sun. With the setting sun, their tune changed. The squawks grew louder. They lifted off and flew toward night time roosts. Shortly the sky was dark and quiet.

Our starlit evening dinner was a farewell BBQ of lamb, beef and chicken. It was the best meal of the week. We lingered a long while taking in the night sounds of lions, baboons and hyenas and listening to Brad tell us about all of Orion’s stars, including those in his Belt. With a laser pointer, we did not have to guess which star he was waxing on about. Soon we were getting quiet and sleep beckoned. The breathless air was still very warm. We laid on top with no covers and hoped for blissful sleep…….which came in fits and spurts as we took turns visiting the bathroom.

Wednesday, March 21, 2018

Our TChad group: Standing are: Brian, Mark, Julia, Don and Kingsley. Sitting are: Lois, Laurie, Leslie an Noriko. Brad is taking the photo.

Up early, packed and ready to go. The heat has finally gotten the better of us all. Breakfast and a group photo over, we said goodbye to the staff and drove to the Park HQ to wait in the shade for the plane to arrive. Then we said our final goodbyes to Brad and Kingsley, climbed aboard and flew east. Thankfully, Peptol Bismal got us through the morning and the flight back to N’Djamena (pronounced N Jam een a).

We are now in the lovely air conditioned Hilton Hotel, have had a good lunch and a swim in the cool pool. Now I am hoping to get this post off and some photos with it.  Am sorry not to be able to add more photos.  It takes a very long time to download each image and i am now too tired to think clearly.  So here it is, ready or not.

Next post will come from somewhere in Cameroon, I hope.  If not, it will come when I have decent wifi.   Good night.

Dinner together at 37,000 feet enroute to London

March 10, 2018

At long last, a British Airways 747 is lofting us over the polar route from San Francisco to London. Mark and I had a delightful dinner sitting opposite each other at a table in his seat.  The meal was mediocre, but desert was wonderful – sticky toffee pudding with toffee sauce. I polished it off with a shot of Johnny Walker Blue. Two sins I “never” let myself indulge in on long flights. What a delicious disgrace!

I am finally celebrating after months of intense distress and effort expended on my Hurricane Harvey flooded Texas property, which is now completely recovered and very possibly, just as the airplane door closed and I lost communication, about to become fully leased – a happening I hope to have confirmed when we get to London and have internet again; other pesky business issues about which I won’t bore you, but never seem to go away; and many hours, weeks and months spent creating, organizing, planning, detailing and marketing a special trip to Uganda, Rwanda and, most particularly, the Kellernann Foundation facilities in SW Uganda in support of Scott Kellermann and his 16 years of work with the pygmies. Happily, a small group of intrepid travelers are fully booked for the adventure, which Mark and I will accompany in September. As I was saying, I am finally celebrating.

Now about this adventure Mark and I are embarked upon. We will start slowly by spending a couple of days in London to adjust to the time change and take in a play and some good food before flying south on March 13 to N’Djamena, Chad.

The plan there is to stay overnight at the Hilton Hotel in the capital, a large town of approximately 960,000, which we may not visit for safety reasons. Here we meet our fellow travelers. All we know is far is there are 8 Americans, including 5 women and 3 men. Mark and I seem to be the only couple. Should I be surprised there are more women than men? We will also meet our two guides who, from their description and photos, look like they will keep us enthralled with tales of past adventures, even if we saw and did nothing but listen to them talk.

The next day we fly SE to Zakouma National Park, where we will camp and hang out with our two guides, wild animals and birds for 8 days. We may be safer with them in the wild than with the town folk. At the end of the week there, we fly back to the capital and stay another night in the Hilton.
Before the activity starts and I have less time, I’d like to share some of what I have learned about Chad to give those of you who are unfamiliar a sense of the place. For starters, it is a landlocked country in Central Africa that is bordered by Libya to the north, Sudan to the east, the Central African Republic to the south, Cameroon and Nigeria to the southwest and Niger to the west. It is the 5th largest country in Africa and more than twice the size of Texas or 3 times the size of California, with an estimated population between 13 and 14 million. More than 47% of the population is under 15 and life expectancy is 48-52 years.

It is divided into zones: a desert zone in the north where many archeological sites have been found that indicate a large population dating back to before 2000 BC; an arid Sahelian zone in the middle of the country which supported the first and longest lasting regional empire, the Kanem Empire, and was a crossroads of trans Saharan trade routes during the first millennium AD; and a fertile Sudanian sevanna zone in the south where the majority of the current population lives.

Lake Chad, after which the country is named, is the remains of an immense lake north of N’Djamena, that once occupied 130,000 sq mi 7000 years ago. Today it has shrunk to about 6,800 sq mi and fluctuates seasonally. Even so, it is Africa’s second largest wetland.

French colonial expansion led to France becoming a military protectorate of Chad in 1900. By 1920, France was in full control of the colony. French rule was characterized by an absence of policies to unify the territory and by sluggish modernization. The French viewed Chad as a source of untrained labor and raw cotton, introducing large scale production in 1929. The administration in Chad was understaffed and lax. The French presence in the Islamic north and east was nominal. The education system suffered from neglect. Nevertheless, 15,000 Chadians fought in WWII to help free France.

After the war, Chad became an oversees territory. Chadians were granted the right to elect representatives to the national Assembly and form a Chadian assembly. Political parties formed, with the largest being the Chadian Progressive Party (PPT), based in the Christian/Animist southern half of the colony. Chad was granted independence August 11,1960. The leader of the PPT, Sara Francois Tombalbaye, became the first president. Within 2 years he banned opposition parties and became an autocratic ruler who’s insensitive mismanagement exacerbated inter ethnic tensions. Civil war broke out in 1965 and he was finally overthrown and killed in 1975. 10 years of war for no good reason.

In 1979 a rebel leader, Hissene Habre took over and consolidated his dictatorship with a power system that relied on corruption and violence. Thousands were killed under his rule. He was also hated for favoring his own ethnic group and discriminating against former allies. In 1990 Habre was overthrown by his general, Idriss Deby. Hebre was eventually arrested, tried, found guilty and sentenced to life in prison in 2016 for crimes against humanity, rape, sexual slavery and ordering the death of 40,000 people. Another nice guy.

At first Debby attempted to reconcile the rebel groups and reform the multiparty system. Chadians approved a constitution by referendum and in 1996 Debby easily won the competitive presidential election. Then he won a second five year term. Oil exploitation began in 2003 and people hoped the country would have some peace and prosperity. Instead tensions worsened and civil war broke out again. Deby unilaterally changed the constitution and eliminated the 2-term limit. He was not popular any more. In 2006, he won a mandated election with the opposition groups boycotting the poles. Coups were attempted and failed. Fighting continued until 2010 when an agreement was made between Chad and Sudan that marked the end of the war and Chadian rebels went back to Sudan. Deby continues to rule Chad even as the country continues to deteriorate. He, like his predecessors, has not helped improve life for the people.

Chad’s official languages are Arabic and French, with Arabic becoming the lingua franca due to the importance of itinerant Arab traders and settled merchants in local communities.

The country is very diverse regarding religion. The 1993 census found that 54% were Muslim, of which 48% were Sunni, 21% Shia, 4% Ahmadi and 23% just Muslim. 20% were Roman Catholic, 14% Protestant, 10% animist and the rest nothing. I was surprised to learn that 55% of the Chadian Muslims practiced Sufism, a moderate branch of mystical Islam. Christianity arrived with French and American missionaries. Muslims were largely concentrated in the north and east of Chad, with Christians and animists living primarily in the southern Chad. Saudi Arabian funds support social and educational projects and mosque construction.

There are more than 200 distinct ethnic groups in Chad. Next to the immediate family, the local or regional society is the most important influence. Efforts by colonial (1900-1960) and independent (1960-present) governments to impose a national society have not faired well. The nation’s main ethnic group, the Sara, are sedentary and live in the south. In the Sahel sedentary people live along side nomadic people, such as the Arabs, the country’s second major ethnic group. Nomads, mostly a tribe called Toubous, live in the north.

According to the UN, Chad has been affected by a humanitarian crisis since at least 2001. As of 2008 the country hosted over 280,000 refugees from Sudan’s Darfur region, over 55,000 from the Central African Republic, as well as over 170,000 internally displaced people. All this disruption has generated increased tensions throughout the region.

Another issue that I find bothersome and disruptive is the treatment of women throughout the country. For starters, polygamy is common. I read that 39% of women live in such unions, which are sanctioned by law. Although female genital mutilation is forbidden by law, the practice is wide spread and rooted in tradition – 45% of Chadian women undergo the procedure. Women lack equal opportunities in education and training, making it hard to get jobs. Although the French based laws do not discriminate against women, local leaders decide inheritance cases in favor of men “according to tradition”.

Education is a really sad situation. Although attendance is compulsory in primary school, only 68% of boys attend. A percentage for girls was not even mentioned. Many parents are reluctant to send their kids to school. More than half the population is illiterate. At 33%, Chad has one of the lowest literacy rates of Sub-Saharan Africa. Child labor in Chad is really high. In 2013, the US Dept of labor Findings on Child Labor reported 53% of Chadian children aged 5 to 14 were working. A more recent report listed cattle herding as a major agricultural activity that employed underage children.

Infrastructure has not fared well either. Although we have not seen the roads yet, I understand that the network is limited and often unusable several months of the year with not many miles paved. The country has no rail of its own and depends on Cameroon’s rail system for the transport of imports and exports to and from the Atlantic seaport in Douala. There are 59 airports, of which 9 have paved runways. Due to years of mismanagement only about 15% of people in N’Djamena have power and only 1.5% of the nations population have it. Most Chadians depend on wood and dung for fuel. 14,000 fixed telephone lines, provided by the state owned phone company, SotelTchad, serve all of Chad. This is one of the lowest telephone density rates in the world. Chad’s Ministry of Posts, Information & Communication Technologies announced in 2013 that they were looking for a fiber optic partner. Don’t know what has happened with that. There is only one TV station, state owned by Tele Tchad, and it is only available to N’Djamena audiences. Radio has a far greater reach with 13 private radio stations.

Corruption is rampant at all levels. Transparency International’s Corruption Perceptions Index named Chad as the most corrupt country in the world, along with Bangladesh, in 2005. As of 2013 it ranked 5th. Critics of Chad’s President, Idriss Deby, have accused him of cronyism and tribalism. The Fund for Peace lists Chad as a failed state.

The UN Human Development Index ranked Chad as the 7th poorest country in the world, with 80% living below the poverty line. At one point in the 60’s, the mining industry produced sodium carbonate, or natron. There were reports of gold bearing quartz. Then years of civil war scared away foreign investors. In 2000 major direct foreign investment in the oil sector began and now there is a pipeline that takes oil from the oil fields, through Chad and Cameroon to the port at Douala, hopefully boosting economic prospects. Nevertheless, more than 80% of Chad’s population relies on subsistence farming and livestock raising for a livelihood. If Chad could maintain a semblance of stability, foreign investors might eventually return, but after 28 years since the last successful coup that brought President Idriss Deby to power, investors are still wary.   It is no wonder that the people of Chad are distresses, frustrated and angry.  They, like the people we have seen and met in most countries in Africa, deserve better governance than they have received.

That’s enough sad and bad news for now. Much of what I have written comes from Wikipedia and is not necessarily current. I hope to fill in the gaps as we travel and learn first hand.

Several of you wonder how and when I manage to do this blog. Well, this time it has happened in flight after dinner. I just start reading and writing and several hours later, Mark is asleep along with the rest of the passengers, and I am still at it. Now, I am finally tired too. This was not so easy going as I wanted to provide you with some information about this little known country without being boring or too long winded. I am not sure I succeeded. Hopefully, you have enjoyed learning a bit about Chad. Our story will become more personal as we spend time in the country. I am somewhat concerned about having free time, electricity and a comfortable environment in which to write.

Whatever we experience will be part of our story.
So for now, good night,
Julia