Finding the Poorest of the Poor in Chad
By Helen Blakesley, Catholic Relief Services (CRS)
Before I set off on each ‘intrepid’ journey in the name of CRS, I always
flick through my guidebook to Africa. It was next stop Chad, in Central Africa,
north of Cameroon and west of the Sudans. As my eyes alighted on the correct
page, they were drawn to these words: “Wave goodbye to your comfort zone and say
hello to Chad”. Gulp. It got worse. “Chad is Africa for the hardcore. This is an
experience you will never forget”. Blimey.
As the plane made its descent to N’Djamena airport the balmy night of my
arrival, I looked down onto the flat rooftops and street lights we passed. Was
that falling rain lit up by each lamp head? No. That was swarms of crickets and
other bugs dancing frenetically in the pools of light.
And they continued their welcome as we made our way into the airport and waited
for our passports to be stamped. Locusts swooping, to settle on shoulders, in
hair, on pant legs, or to be brushed off hastily by a skittish traveler. A
little girl shrieked as she pointed to a large black unidentifiable beastie with
scarab-like pincers, poised on my shoe. I’m very glad she did.
I soon started to see what the guidebook meant about ‘hardcore’, and I hadn’t
even made it out of the capital city. For most ex pats, life in N’Djamena is a
life lived behind compound walls. Houses, offices, restaurants are manned by
guards, some are topped with barbed wire fences and visitors checked over with
metal detectors. Armed soldiers are a common sight, especially along the road of
the presidential palace (where, I was informed, if you stop your car they will
shoot in the air to make you move along!)
Getting stuff done in N’Djamena isn’t the easiest feat
either. There’s the heat and humidity, social norms to be respected, and red
tape that has a whole extra kink in it, compared to other places I’ve visited.
But despite all this, CRS staff members at the N’Djamena office (loyally
guarded, or should I say wagged at, by a feisty dog called Babette) go above and
beyond to put CRS projects into practice.
It turned out that the papers I needed to leave the capital and travel east
to visit these projects didn’t arrive in time. A civil service strike meant the
man who usually signs them wasn’t there. So, I was transported instead through
conversation, as CRS staff spoke passionately about their work with the poorest
of the poor.
Talking with Katie, a young project manager from the States, (and my dinner
buddy for the trip), I heard about remote villages out East which are more akin
to the Wild West. Surrounded by desert, living in such isolation, many of the
people there have no other way to earn money than the crops they grow. And this
year has been especially hard. The last cereal harvest was down by 50 percent.
For many, food supplies ran out as early as January. Unrest in neighboring
countries (Libya, the Sudans, Nigeria) has taken away the chance of seasonal
work abroad for fathers, husbands and brothers. Throw into the mix a couple of
hundred thousand refugees from Darfur, who fled to Chad to escape violence, but
who admittedly put extra pressure on the region’s resources.
So, CRS stepped in with a program aimed at helping 10,000 households – which
translates to around 60,000 people. Working with our partners, CRS chose the
most vulnerable: families headed by a woman, someone who’s elderly or has a
disability or is pregnant, families who eat as little as one meal a day – or
less, families who have sold their last seed stocks or animals to buy food.
Then, vouchers are given out, which can be exchanged for food at local
markets. The vouchers are distributed every 2 weeks instead of every month, so
as not to flood the market and so that people have less to carry back home,
often on foot, by donkey or camel. Using these local markets and local vendors
also means a boost for local economies.
As we chatted late into the night, Katie shared with me the challenges of
this project, but also the hopes…that the rains will be good this year…that the
harvest, due in October, will be enough…that CRS can carry on helping set people
on the right path to weather this most difficult of years.
Women load up their donkey at Minekrat, in Chad
with goods they´ve bought at the market, thanks
to CRS. Photo by
Anicet Nemeyimana/CRS