Category Archives: Personal

Going Against Advice

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Going Against Advice

It’s a running joke in my family that no one is really that stubborn when in reality, everyone is stubborn. It’s a wonder that we can get together long enough for one holiday sometimes. There are a couple of different types of stubborn. For a long time, I only understood the classic obstinate, get-out-of-my way stubbornness. That is, until I realized that smiling politely and doing the opposite of what is told is also one way of being stubborn.

That’s me. Lots of people tend to think that I need buckets of advice on all aspects of my life when they don’t always understand what’s going on. For instance, many of you thought I should pull out of Chad and spread my future plans out somewhere else because of malaria but mysteriously, I stopped getting it! Maybe a resistance? Or maybe I just stopped saying that I had it. In fact, I had it over this last Christmas (those who feel really sorry for me, my paypal info is on zgately.com). I have learned to listen to everyone but most of you probably know that it’s hard to convince me otherwise when I’ve made up my mind. Charis, my co-director here, continually comments on how there’s no changing my mind. My mom gave up a long time ago. So why would I change now?

Last Christmas, we took a little envoy to Moundou for our Christmas and New Year’s shopping. It was crazy hectic and most of us took a vow to never have children after that but it added to the American normalcy of the holidays; our own little Black Friday. But due to poor planning, we did not have even one working vehicle on the compound. I was bound and determined to have a little retail therapy so I said I was still going. Now, not only am I this other type of stubborn but I like to have my independence and not wait on anyone so of course, I would take my motorcycle to Moundou. I would take my friend Allahramadji but on a moto, that’s all that would fit. Well the new-ish student missionary, Zachri, was getting a bit restless as well and wanted to go terribly. Kim also wanted to go. She has a moto too but she doesn’t ride it much and the 150 km trip wasn’t something she would drive. Some how or another, she convinced herself that we should all go: Allah and I driving, Zachri and Kim as passengers.

As soon as word was out we were going, we got requests for lots of things from people here: fabrics, butter, hangers. All items unavailable to us here. We said we would try but with the motos, we had only so much space available. “YOU’RE TAKING MOTOS TO MOUNDOU?!?!?!!?” This was the standard response, similar to if I said that I was opening an abortion clinic with only a hanger, salad tongs, and my crazy great aunt’s (who use to be a witch) tea made from toenails and lizards lips. The crazy thing is that I’ve done it before without any problems. There was lots of “are you sure?” and “is it really worth it?” or “please, its so dangerous. Just hire a car!” and “can’t you just wait?” but we pushed on and broke the mold. I mean, if we had planned a little better, we could have taken a car but all the registrations were out so we didn’t want to risk the police.

We took the road less traveled (which means less paved) which cut our kilometers down to 90 and increased our time from 2.5 to 3.5 hrs. It was a beautiful drive full of National Geographic like villages, rice fields, and sand pits. We had to push through 1.5 ft deep sand, straddle previously cobbled lanes, and honk for the cows to move. And guess what, the only problems were 2 bumps that we didn’t see right away and that we had to wait for the post office to open.

One of the phrases that has come to life here was taught to me during the 2005 Auburn Adventist Academy Graduation by Mr. Thomas Allen: if it is to be, it is up to me. If I need something done, I can’t just wait. I have to push and try until it becomes a reality. As Bob Goff says, you have to knock down the door sometimes. So I’ll smile nicely and listen well but if I want something done or to do something, I’m going to do regardless. So there’s no waiting….

Zachary Gately
zchgtly@gmail.com
zgately.com
+235 91122492

L’Hopital Adventiste de Béré
ATTN: Zachary Gately
52 Boîte Postal
Kelo, Tchad
Africa

Going Against Advice

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Going Against Advice

It’s a running joke in my family that no one is really that stubborn when in reality, everyone is stubborn. It’s a wonder that we can get together long enough for one holiday sometimes. There are a couple of different types of stubborn. For a long time, I only understood the classic obstinate, get-out-of-my way stubbornness. That is, until I realized that smiling politely and doing the opposite of what is told is also one way of being stubborn.

That’s me. Lots of people tend to think that I need buckets of advice on all aspects of my life when they don’t always understand what’s going on. For instance, many of you thought I should pull out of Chad and spread my future plans out somewhere else because of malaria but mysteriously, I stopped getting it! Maybe a resistance? Or maybe I just stopped saying that I had it. In fact, I had it over this last Christmas (those who feel really sorry for me, my paypal info is on zgately.com). I have learned to listen to everyone but most of you probably know that it’s hard to convince me otherwise when I’ve made up my mind. Charis, my co-director here, continually comments on how there’s no changing my mind. My mom gave up a long time ago. So why would I change now?

Last Christmas, we took a little envoy to Moundou for our Christmas and New Year’s shopping. It was crazy hectic and most of us took a vow to never have children after that but it added to the American normalcy of the holidays; our own little Black Friday. But due to poor planning, we did not have even one working vehicle on the compound. I was bound and determined to have a little retail therapy so I said I was still going. Now, not only am I this other type of stubborn but I like to have my independence and not wait on anyone so of course, I would take my motorcycle to Moundou. I would take my friend Allahramadji but on a moto, that’s all that would fit. Well the new-ish student missionary, Zachri, was getting a bit restless as well and wanted to go terribly. Kim also wanted to go. She has a moto too but she doesn’t ride it much and the 150 km trip wasn’t something she would drive. Some how or another, she convinced herself that we should all go: Allah and I driving, Zachri and Kim as passengers.

As soon as word was out we were going, we got requests for lots of things from people here: fabrics, butter, hangers. All items unavailable to us here. We said we would try but with the motos, we had only so much space available. “YOU’RE TAKING MOTOS TO MOUNDOU?!?!?!!?” This was the standard response, similar to if I said that I was opening an abortion clinic with only a hanger, salad tongs, and my crazy great aunt’s (who use to be a witch) tea made from toenails and lizards lips. The crazy thing is that I’ve done it before without any problems. There was lots of “are you sure?” and “is it really worth it?” or “please, its so dangerous. Just hire a car!” and “can’t you just wait?” but we pushed on and broke the mold. I mean, if we had planned a little better, we could have taken a car but all the registrations were out so we didn’t want to risk the police.

We took the road less traveled (which means less paved) which cut our kilometers down to 90 and increased our time from 2.5 to 3.5 hrs. It was a beautiful drive full of National Geographic like villages, rice fields, and sand pits. We had to push through 1.5 ft deep sand, straddle previously cobbled lanes, and honk for the cows to move. And guess what, the only problems were 2 bumps that we didn’t see right away and that we had to wait for the post office to open.

One of the phrases that has come to life here was taught to me during the 2005 Auburn Adventist Academy Graduation by Mr. Thomas Allen: if it is to be, it is up to me. If I need something done, I can’t just wait. I have to push and try until it becomes a reality. As Bob Goff says, you have to knock down the door sometimes. So I’ll smile nicely and listen well but if I want something done or to do something, I’m going to do regardless. So there’s no waiting….

Zachary Gately
zchgtly@gmail.com
zgately.com
+235 91122492

L’Hopital Adventiste de Béré
ATTN: Zachary Gately
52 Boîte Postal
Kelo, Tchad
Africa

New Friend

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So this year, we have had a couple of very prolific cats on our compound. After the first couple batches of calico-ish balls of fluff, I have finally caught one. His name is Cap, short for Cappuccino. On the first night, he actually curled right up and slept by my pillow. Let’s hope he says as cute and playful.

Zachary Gately
zchgtly@gmail.com
zgately.com
+235 91122492

L’Hopital Adventiste de Béré
ATTN: Zachary Gately
52 Boîte Postal
Kelo, Tchad
Africa

Blog: When the Grind is More of a Rut

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When the Grind is More of a Rut

One week ago, I landed back in “my country.” Some things will never change about Chad: The perfume of many of the Muslims or the heavy diesel pollution that gets caught in the back of the throat as soon as you get off the plane. At least we are still Ebola free and are taking several screening precautions to prevent it (cough, cough USA).

There are many exciting things that could happen over the next few months in regards to our work here. We have some budding partnerships with ADRAs Chad and Germany, LLU School of Public Health, the US Embassy, and even our own Bere Adventist Hospital. Some of our projects include mapping our our areas using GIS technology, expanding our current projects, the recent acquisition of a nutrition center, and so much more.

With so many things, I know its going to be important to not only plan and use my time wisely, it’ll be important to take a small vacation here or there. Last year was the only time in my life that I have never traveled more than a 300 mile span for a year! So if anyone want’s to go to Egypt or Morocco, let me know! I am hoping to go to an intensive French language program to bring my skills well over the next couple of levels. Though it is expensive, I think it would be worth it for a couple of thousands of dollars to improve something so vital.

All in all, I am excited and positive! I cannot believe that November is almost here, signaling the end of another year!

Zachary Gately
zchgtly@gmail.com
zgately.com
+235 91122492

L’Hopital Adventiste de Béré
ATTN: Zachary Gately
52 Boîte Postal
Kelo, Tchad
Africa

Old Habits Die Hard

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It’s been 3 weeks now since I blundered out of that Ethiopian flight #0500, so happy to have fast mobile internet, burritos, and English. Now I can’t say that I had terribly bad reverse culture shock but none the less, there have been many times that I forget I am in the land of the free and home of the brave.

1) I don’t have to translate into another language for my day to day duties. I catch myself thinking about phrasing, gender, and conjugation when I’m looking for an item in Target.

2) Whenever I have to go pee, I look for the closest bush or door to outside before realizing I have a regular toilet in my house. Thanks to Nick, Allah, and Kim, I’ll now have that luxury when I arrive next week!

3) I start thinking what my friends and family would be doing 8hrs behind and then realize that we are in the same time zone.

It’s been really great being able to chill with Giada and Ina Garden with my cats everyday. Though everyday there seems to be something related back to Chad, I’m still getting a great vacation.

Feel free to give me a call on my cell here: (530) 927-7970! I’ve got exactly a week before I’m flying back!

Brush with the Law

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I have had all good intentions when it comes to blogging these past three weeks but some how a blog never materialized in cyberspace. I have had many things to blog about so I’ll just start rapid fire of ideas:
-Traveling back from NDJ without the Student Missionaries
-Straight up food poisoning from pizza (just like in developed countries)
-Reflections on the work of Dambisa Moyo, “Dead Aid,” and how it applies to here
-To extend my time here or not, that is the question

Now all of these are of some large interest to me but as another volunteer said, it sometimes is better to show the comical yet real side of what happens here. So here’s to Saturday morning activities that just happen to involve the police of one of the most corrupt countries in the world.

It started off innocent enough. My alarm beeped on Friday, 25 April, that I had to pay my student loan bill and since that is a big reason to why I am here, I try to make it a priority. We just had a big storm and the network was acting up so I figured I would do it later.

I tried it later.
I stared at my screen forever.
It never worked again.

Look at that, I made a haiku. But yes, text and phone calls wouldn’t even work so I gave up and went to bed.

The following morning I awoke with a start, realizing that I still had to pay it since it was due on the the 26th. We recently got our motorcycle completely registered (sans plate but maybe I’ll get it tomorrow) so I decided to zip over to Lai for a quick use of Tigo E (think of it like Verizon Edge or just fast cellular data). I left the hospital before 7 am but promptly got behind a dirt hauling truck and was sand blasted 80% of the 17 km to Lai.

Once there, I road around looking for a coffee or tea spot but none were open yet so I pulled around to the public meeting grounds to do my internet business. I pull out my phone and start going to the loan website when this guy comes up to me yelling, takes my phone, and proceeds to head to the police station. This police station is already a joke as they are to man the only stop sign for 60 km in any direction. It is in the middle of nowhere and they are looking for terrorists and illegal immigrants.

Whatever, so we head there and I hear him going on about internet usage and I finally figure out that I had parked near a private satellite internet tower and he was being a good citizen and reporting me. So I go on about how I was under the impression that Tigo (our cellular carrier) is available for anyone who wants to use it. The police start to laugh as I am getting very serious while this lunatic has my Iphone. He gives it back after he realizes his mistake and I after I explain it to every police officer I pass because they want to be the one to rescue the nassara, I drive across the street to sit by the hospital.

Maybe I look too nerdy with my glasses but contacts don’t do well with dust and high-speed winds. Maybe all white males are computer hackers (**cough cough** Temidayo). Maybe he was hoping for a payoff or a new phone. Whatever. I just needed to pay my loan bill.

I pull across the street by the hospital and proceed to complete what I needed to do plus a little more. I watch as every person who ran that stop sign was pulled over. There are not a lot of regular foreigners in Lai even though it is bigger than Bere so every drunk and every child thought it was there prerogative to welcome me to their city. Needless to say, Lai’s not a bad place except any normal surgical case is sent to Dr. Danae in Bere.

I finish, wave bye-bye to the police and head home, hoping to get back in time to go to the village branch of church before the regular service starts. Going, I am passing Fulani people on donkeys, women piled high with wares to sell on their heads, men guiding heavy laden ox carts, and anyone else walking or riding a bike to Bere for market day. I’m clipping a long and it feels great to be alive. I skirted one police situation and was ready to eat some breakfast.

As I pull into the town of Nangere, 7 km before Bere, I see a police stop. They flag me down (but not most other people) and ask for my papers. I ask which papers, mine or the moto’s hoping for mine, and he says the moto’s. I pull out everything and he looks it over and asks for something. I am unfamiliar with the name but he insists I don’t have it. Valery, my “father,” is the one who has been registering our motos so I call him up. I explain and finally just hand over the phone to the police. We have 30 days to get the tax taken care of but this policeman decides that we don’t. He says I can pay the 5000 CFA then and there. The only problem is that I did not have 5000 CFA, about $10 USD. Charis was bringing back money for me so I had all of 3000 CFA and change.

Valery said he could come take care of it so I told him to get the other moto’s key from Olen at the hospital. I call Olen and explain. He laughs and says its not a problem. While waiting, the police are doing a good-cop/bad-cop routine. One is being super hard about it while the other is trying to convince him that I’m a good guy, work at the hospital, and just made an honest mistake. Finally they compromise and we can take care of the paper work in Bere. We get going but as soon as we are on the main road, we see Valery. He’s getting it straightened out and Olen calls.

“Where are you guys?”
“uh by the side of the road.”
“How far from Nangere?”
“Less than a km, what’s up?”
“You wanna do church there?”
“Whhhhaaaatttt…….?”

So Valery and I ended up asking around, “Where do the nassara sing on Saturdays?” and eventually we found a well with kids waiting for our arrival. We mumble through the kids songs as I don’t know them in French or Nangere and Valery doesn’t them period. I hum a little and then the kids know it so we just roll with it. Olen said to tell the story of Jericho and Valery and I give an impresive account of what happened.

Finally we arrive back at Bere in time for Valery to make it to regular Sabbath school and for me to go take a shower.

After church, we had to take some people back to Nangere since they hitched a ride to church with us. On our way back we can pick up our new tax sticker. He said it would be 5000CFA for each bike. I rounded up 20,000CFA just incase. I figure double should be enough but it was not. He wanted 12,500 CFA for each so I have to head back to hospital and back to the police station one more time.

All in all, there was no arrest, no beatings, and not too bad of a bribe. I just was happy I made lunch before I headed out on this adventure so that they rest of those here were not waiting on me for potluck.

Its always an adventure here and I’ll continue to enjoy it while I can. I don’t have an issue with working with the people here and I like seeing their ah-ha moments. We continue to fight for healthy lives which include good nutrition, education, coming to the hospital on time, and not giving a baby water. There are only so many hours in a day but some how, we keep moving forward.

Zachary Gatelyzchgtly
zgately.com
+235 91122492

L’Hopital Adventiste de Béré
ATTN: Zachary Gately
52 Boîte Postal
Kelo, Tchad
Africa

Illegal Activities

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As I’ve said before, it is illegal to take public photos here in Chad. This is much more enforced in the capital but with the advent of the camera phone, it is increasingly difficult to control. I just dropped of the SMs last week and while there managed to snap a few illegal shots. You can either see them below or view them at zgately.com.

Camels on the bus ride up to NDJ.

Center memorial of NDJ

More center memorial.

And more…

On the way to the market.

Second big storm. You can see the dust/rain line. Pretty intense!

Zachary Gately
zchgtly@gmail.com
zgately.com
+235 91122492

L’Hopital Adventiste de Béré
ATTN: Zachary Gately
52 Boîte Postal
Kelo, Tchad
Africa

Dust

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Sleep has not been staying with me as of late. I wake up around 4:30 am and cannot go back to sleep for the life of me. I don’t want to get up but finally after checking my email, I wearily stumble outside to pee and then brush my teeth before starting my morning brew. I then clean up my room and try to respond to a few emails, do what research I can as this is the fastest internet will be all day.

This morning, I stepped outside around 6:30 and was instantly on alert. I didn’t smell a threatening amount of smoke but I looked intensely smokey outside across the compound and over the horizon. Growing up in Northern California, forest fires always threatened the end of my summers. Was this smoke?

I look again.

It can’t be fog either. We haven’t had any type of moisture in the air for months now. Then it dawns on me:

Dust.

I knew that dust was everywhere. My clothes are dusty, my counter top is dusty, my computer looks like it fell into a sand pit, and I have to scrub my body like none other just to get clean.

But this morning was more than I ever expected. The air is now so saturated with dust that it casts shadows like clouds. It rolls in like a storm front. I half expect to be caught in a sandstorm on my way to the market today. So if you don’t hear from me soon, you’ll know that I have huddled down with my camel and am waiting out the storm.

Malaria Round #2

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After three nights of unsuccessful sleep, a slight fever, body aches, and a headache, I gave in and hunted down an ever busy doctor for a lab test form. Dr. Danae, dressed to the nines in her new Fulani outfit while doing rounds, let me slide without too many questions. I get pricked but I then had to go into town with my mom who is visiting. I was fatigued but no worries, I made it there and back. Right before we head out, I got the verdict: positive at 0.05%. Not bad I guess, considering last time my count was 0.25% after a day of treatment.
Thursday night goes by quick and into a fitful
Friday night.

I felt alright in the morning but as soon as I stood up, I realized there was a limited amount of activity I could do. I could be up for about 15 minutes before I had sit or lay back down. We had a lot to do for a big meeting in the afternoon so I quickly made a list and gave it to Charis. She took charge while I sat with our temperamental printer and printed a couple hundred copies off, one sheet at a time. It can’t take more than one paper in the tray or else it eats them. It worked out though since I could just sit and zone out in my malarial state.

Thankfully, I had bought a bunch of peanuts when I went to the market so I would have some type of salty snack. There are very few salty foods here. Most snacks are sweet biscuits, cookies, wafers, or candy. Sweet foods simply do not agree with me when my stomach is not content. So rather than chance sweet foods and medication to result in vomiting and IV quinine (the worst), I happily munched on salty peanuts.

In the end, I was feeling 95% by Saturday morning. It makes a huge difference when you catch malaria early rather than wait and hope it goes away. Its similar to that awkward conversation you’re putting off or going with that idea you have. You’ve just gotta do it. And the sooner you do it the better off you’ll be tomorrow.

“A stitch in time saves nine.”

Zachary Gately
zchgtly
zgately.com
+235 91122492

L’Hopital Adventiste de Béré
ATTN: Zachary Gately
52 Boîte Postal
Kelo, Tchad
Africa

Shaking Hands with a Leper

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Living in Bere has opened my eyes to how it was like in biblical times. The stars come alive living in a city with no electricity. The Fulani people carry their houses along with all their possessions on the backs of donkeys (in N’djamena they use camels but rainy season is too long here for them). The houses are made from mud and the roads are unpaved. James Appel brings much of this alive in his book “Children of the East.”

Yesterday, Naomi and I were going around to the last few quartiers on an announcement run when we remembered to ask about a friend of Tammy’s. Tammy has a program for those in need. In return, she takes their picture and asks them questions about their life. She had made contact with this particular man but when she went to return, her translator had left and began spreading rumors that she was exploiting these people for her personal gain. Hurt, Tammy was all the more determined to find him again but after 4 months without a hit, she had all but given up.

We had found one of her other friends by accident last time we went around to the chiefs. He was demon possessed when Tammy met him. His brother had chained him to the wall of the house so he wouldn’t hurt anyone and he had shredded all of his clothes. When we met him, he was clean shaven, washed clothes, and for sure, was not possessed. As we passed this same quartier, we asked the chief’s son if he knew anything of Tammy’s other friend. He pointed down the road and mentioned a landmark. We followed and low-an-behold, we found him. He had leprosy. He is missing half of his digits on his right hand. He only has heels for feet, wrapped in thick plastic. His gums are painful to look at and it is evident his sight has been gone for some time. He scoots over on his rice-sack mat and welcomes Naomi and I here.

I am speechless and Naomi is about to cry. We tell him that we are happy to see him and that we have been looking for him. He speaks of God’s grace and his worries for his family. He thanks us for visiting and wishes us to return.We reaffirm that this was only the beginning. We had some gifts that we had purchases but since we couldn’t find him, we couldn’t deliver. We blesses our route and we are on our way, speeding back to tell Tammy about our find.

We head back out to him a couple hours later with a bag of rice and the other gifts. We just sit and listen to his story. He was previously pastor and he was one of the only members of his family that survived the war that ravaged the country of Chad 30 years ago. He told us the only reason he is living today is because he tucked his Bible under his arm as he fled for his life. When caught, his captors released him saying they couldn’t kill a man of God.

His leprosy has stopped its progress and his condition is relatively stable, though unreversable. He talks about how his biggest fear is that his kids will make bad decisions. Already he thinks his son-in-laws are studpid. He worries for his wife and for his grandchildren. But at the same time he begs for God to take him from this world. He has seen so much hurt and experienced so much pain. Yet, he is possitive that God is there actively working in his life. God is taking care of him and God will continue to provide.

In the end, we’ve nothing but time to give. We must spend it wisely but also be willing to spend it with others. We can control so little in the world but we can share ourselves with others.

I know I haven’t written much lately (hence the photos earlier) but life has begun to get mundane. I send of some emails, feed a dozen malnurished kids, practice some French, and forever am sweeping my house. Among many things, shaking hands with a man with leprosy helped me realize that I cannot get too comfortable. I don’t want life to pass me by while I sit there thinking everything is normal. I must live life and look for the moments that can’t be done over as time will always keep passing us by. Like I said, life here reminds me of biblical times. Its simplicity and love of time together as friends and family are some of the biggest reminders.

*movie recomendation*
About Time. It is very nice, if not just for the English countryside.

Zachary Gately
zchgtly@gmail.com
zgately.com
+235 91122492

L’Hopital Adventiste de Béré
ATTN: Zachary Gately
52 Boîte Postal
Kelo, Tchad
Africa