Editor's Note: In March, Kurt Pelda, Africa Bureau Chief of the Swiss daily the Neue Zürcher Zeitung, traveled to eastern Chad on the border with the Sudanese crisis region of Darfur. Over 200,000 Sudanese refugees live in eastern Chad, having fled the violence in Darfur. The region likewise serves as staging grounds for the Darfur rebels fighting against the Sudanese government. During his three weeks traveling in the region, Pelda kept a diary. By virtue of the author's firsthand observations and his numerous conversations with local Sudanese and Chadians, foreign aid workers and Darfur rebels, Pelda's diary provides a portrait of the Darfur conflict that is perhaps unrivaled in its detail and nuance. Over the next few weeks, publishing one diary entry each weekday, World Politics Review will present this important document for the first time in English, with an epilogue penned by Pelda exclusively for WPR. Read past entries.
Day 2: The Harmattan and Angelina Jolie
Cinema-Ready Mass Murder?
28 February
When the Harmattan sweeps over N'Djamena, the sun disappears behind clouds of dust and the sky becomes dark. The Harmattan is a dry northeasterly wind that swirls sand from the Sahara over N'Djamena and large parts of the Sahel. Sometimes the sandstorms are so intense that the airport in N'Djamena has to shut down. But today it is not that bad.
I am still trying to call my translator Ibrahim, who cannot work for me on this trip and is supposed to provide me the number of a suitable replacement. Today, I have better luck. Ibrahim is in Abéché: Chad's second largest city and the largest city in the East. I reach him on his cell phone and he gives me the number of Adam. There are, of course, countless people in N'Djamena who could translate for me. But I am looking for a Sudanese: someone who can speak with the refugees from Darfur not only in Arabic, but also in the local languages of their tribes. Ibrahim's friend Adam comes by the hotel and we meet. We discuss my travel plans and Adam promises to contact a couple of friends in the East who could help us. We decide to stay on in N'Djamena until we are able to concretize our agenda for the East. This could, of course, take a while . . .
While we wait, I go looking for some of the offices of the Darfur rebels in N'Djamena. Abdulkader, a taxi driver whom I know from previous trips, helps me to find where they are located. In N'Djamena, only the main streets are paved. The rest are bumpy dirt roads with enormous potholes. But we are unable to turn up anyone of importance at the offices: neither at the house of Adam Ali Shogar, a spokesman for the National Redemption Front (NRF), nor at the headquarters of the Islamist Justice and Equality Movement (JEM). There are just a few scowling young men in partially tattered uniforms hanging around, some of them wearing camouflage-colored turbans. Some have dreadlocks. One has a thick bandage wrapped around an arm -- evidently covering a wound. I ask after some commandeers whom I know from before. But most of them turn out to be still in Tripoli, at a summit on the situation in Darfur that has been called by the Libyan revolutionary leader Gadhafi. Others are in Abéché or in the small border town Adré.
Abdulkader, the taxi driver, has a lame right arm, which hangs lifeless from his shoulder. He steers his rickety old car with his left hand. He uses his healthy arm also to change gears and he does it so skillfully that the car never lurches. I like Abdulkader. He is a mellow older guy who knows the city well and has never tried to rip me off. N'Djamena is located at the westernmost extreme of Chad on the Chari River. On the other side of the water, visible from Chad, is the neighboring state of Cameroon. It was in Cameroon that Abdulkader was crippled when he got into an accident with his car. The car rolled over and Abdulkader was tossed out the window. His right arm was hurt so badly that he lost the use of it. Nonetheless, he still never fastens his seatbelt while driving.
Suddenly, the car grinds to a halt. The gas tank is empty. Abdulkader swears loudly. He disappears for a couple of minutes in the shop of an old woman nearby and then he returns with two liquor bottles filled with gas. But even with fuel in the tank, the motor does not want to start. Abdelkader opens the hood with his left hand and holds it open with his head until he can get the hood rod fastened. Then he removes the plastic tube from the carburetor, puts it in his mouth and takes a big swig, storing the liquid in his mouth. Then he blows the gas back into the opening of the carburetor. Cheers! He wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his long robe and he starts the motor.
In the meanwhile, I have inquired about flights to the East. The U.N. has two small planes with which it transports personnel between N'Djamena and Abéché, as well as between Abéché and certain localities in the border region with Darfur. Unfortunately, I cannot get a seat, since the next flight is already completely booked. Among others, it will be carrying Angelina Jolie plus her full entourage. Jolie is acting as a "Goodwill Ambassador" for the U.N. refugee agency (UNHCR) and she wants to have a look around the camps in the East. Less generous souls in N'Djamena say that Jolie is only doing the trip because Mia Farrow was recently in Chad as "Goodwill Ambassador" for UNICEF. Just what a "Goodwill Ambassador" is -- and what purpose the whole media circus around them is supposed to serve -- is not entirely clear to me. Is it only possible to draw the attention of the global public to a tragedy, to mass murder such as is occurring in Darfur, when Hollywood stars are flown in for quick visits to refugee camps and then shed tears at a press conference afterwards? I have trouble believing it. But when I ask a high-ranking U.N. official, he merely replies, "That's the way the world is. You have to be realistic."
In the evening, I meet a Sudanese acquaintance who has lived in Chad for a long time. He is a boxer and everyone knows him simply as "King." Last time I was in N'Djamena, King was suffering from malaria. He is now fully recovered from his sickness, but he has scalded both of his hands with hot oil while cooking. On his left hand, the burns are healing well, the bright pink spots where he was burned standing out against the black skin. His right hand, however, looks hideous. The thumb is badly swollen from an infection. I am amazed that King is not complaining about the pain. But he wants to talk instead about a novel that he has just finished. Ideally, he would like to give me an excerpt to read. But the laptop on which he has saved the text is not working at the moment.
He has been working on the apparently largely autobiographical text since 1986. He does not have a back-up copy. King has had an eventful life. He worked for eleven years under precarious conditions in Saudi Arabia. Some of his family settled in Kenya, where he also spent some time. Since then, he can speak Swahili. He asks if it would be possible for me to find a publisher for his novel. What can I say?
"Day 3: Without a Stamp and a Passport Photo, One Does Not Exist"
Kurt Pelda is the Africa Bureau Chief of the Swiss daily the Neue Zürcher Zeitung. The diary of his trip to the Chad/Darfur border first appeared in the NZZ Online. The English translation is by John Rosenthal.
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