Nine days after the initial call
I was on the plane to Niamey. Obtaining the visa took the longest.
I kept a journal during the trip and would like to share a few
of the entries with you in this letter.
September 1
Amadou (a Nigerian staff person) was able to record food distributions
for 300 families onto the database, and promises to continue.
While I stay back for the ride to Maradi, Amadou and Sani go
back to the field. I start on a message to send back to LWR
in Baltimore in anticipation of finding Internet access in Maradi.
The vehicle does not arrive until 3:30 in the afternoon. We
start out towards Dakoro with the idea of stopping in Maradi,
a larger town for a quick stop at an internet café. By
the time we arrive in Maradi it is already past seven and dark.
Driving on a dirt road for another three hours in the dark is
not a good idea, even for foolish people. Trying to find a suitable
hotel to spend the night, we learn that most of the rooms are
taken by the many aide workers in the region. Finally, we find
a $35 room with noisy air-conditioner, toilet with seat missing,
and a thin sponge mattress that forces me to feel all the skeletons
of the bed frame. Worst $35 room I’ve had, but it’s
mine for the night. With the air-conditioner, at least I can
keep the mosquitoes out, but not the bed bugs. I donate my share
to the hungry bugs. The saving grace is that I will get up early
for the six o’clock departure.
September 2
It is six o’clock and still dark, but it will get lighter
by the time we get out of town and hit the dirt road. A quick
stop to get some baguettes for breakfast. I hand over a dollar
and get five of them. The dirt road starts fine, just like the
gravel road at home, but soon turns into potholes and gullies
making the ride uncomfortable. Not quite as bad, but reminds
me of Congo roads I used to travel. After three hours to cover
70 miles, we arrive at Dakoro. The distribution team for today
and visiting dignitaries are waiting for our arrival. We leave
for the village of Farin-Baki as a convoy of five vehicles with
four-wheel drive. When we arrive, the village leaders have arranged
to display the most malnourished babies. I do not feel good.
It is true the photos will be difficult to see, but is this
a way to get more aid? Even the people here in the remotest
corner of the world understand the power of the images.
The distribution takes on a circus effect, as there are many
people in the small area designated for distribution, and the
logistics have not been well thought through. I wait until the
dignitaries leave before suggesting some changes. After the
noon pause, we try a new system of putting people in queues,
which seem strange to the people. But the system increases the
throughput by at least 50 percent. Finally the team is happy;
less time spent under the hot sun is always appreciated.
At the end of today’s distribution a group of people
came forward and demanded food rationing for them. It turns
out that they are nomadic people who do not have roots in any
particular village where food distribution takes place. We promise
to convey their needs for future distribution. One man is brought
to me as a special case. He is from another village where food
distribution is not planned. His wife just delivered a baby
boy and the family has no food. Why he was brought to me, I
have no idea. I suspect because I have different skin color
and therefore I can break the rules. I have three choices: ask
the village committee to release some food from tomorrow’s
distribution, give some money out of my pocket, or just say
sorry. None of the three options are good, it certainly is not
community building. I ask what they would have done had food
been available in the community. They said they would have shared.
I reminded them that each family in the village has received
enough millet for 10 days. A young man took the sack from the
man and asked him to wait. He came back in about fifteen minutes
with enough food to sustain the new mother for four to five
days. Our food distribution also helped restore the community
tradition of caring for one another, even those from other villages.
We return to spend the night in Dakoro. At the guesthouse for
CARE International I find a television with a French movie.
After a while I realize that it is not a videotape but a satellite
dish. Searching for a news channel, I come across CNN with images
of people in desperation and confusion. For a moment, I think
that CNN is showing the sufferings in Niger until the images
of New Orleans streets fill the tube. How surreal to be in Niger
helping the people to deal with a crisis and watch another crisis
unfolding back home. I am glued to the television until the
power goes out.
Getting used to the traditional toilet is not as much of a
problem as it is to fight a swarm of mosquitoes at the same
time. It rains very hard for a couple of hours and it will help
me sleep tonight. (You can read the rest of the story and photographs
at our personal Web page
soon.)
During the assignment in Niger, the difference between development
and disaster relief became very clear. In development we hold
on to the vision of brighter tomorrow and strive to overcome current
constraints for a better tomorrow. But in disaster relief, we
have to operate within the current limitations for immediate survival,
thus having to choose among unsatisfactory choices to minimize
the negative effects.
I came away convinced that the disaster relief must be linked
to long-term development programs. Otherwise, it is simply delaying
the eventual demise. I came home on September 8, and am on a standby
for another deployment in Mississippi to help set up camps for
volunteer workers from the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.). Before
Mississippi, we will make a quick trip to Denver to share the
stories of God’s people helping each other at the Central
Presbyterian Church’s mission fair.
We will be on the road for most of October participating in mission
fairs and to work with our partners in Pakistan. Who says the
heavy travel season is over at Labor Day weekend? We thank God
for giving us these opportunities to serve and the health to endure.
A la prochaine nos amis!
Simon & Haejung
The 2005 Mission Yearbook for Prayer & Study, p.
118 |
