Lessons from Chad
Lessons from Chad
The year was 1992. I was a foreign service officer assigned to the American Embassy in N’Djamena, Chad. While Chad was notable for serial government changes by force, we were in a period of (relative) peace. My house was somewhat remote from the embassy and other U.S. government lodgings.
My neighbor was the No. 2 in Chadian intelligence, a small one-eyed man of the Zaghawa tribe. He lived there with his four wives and his private army, all of whom were Zaghawas from the Darfur region of Sudan.
My New England upbringing (and my own survival instincts) led me to try to be on good terms with this armed presence next door. I made sure I had a supply of drinks on ice for his gate guards and even at times translated for them. We got along rather well. (In fact, his guards intervened when thieves assaulted my unarmed guard with intention of stealing my car.)
So, along came the U.S. election between the incumbent President George H.W. Bush (my ultimate boss) and Bill Clinton.
I rose early on the day after the election. Since the polls were still open on the West Coast and Hawaii, I would wait until I reached the embassy to get the results. As I exited my house, there stood my cook, my gardener — and my neighbor.
My employees immediately said (in French), “We’re so sorry, Patron. Can we do anything to help?” I was confused.
“Why?” I responded, “has there been a tragedy?” “Mr. Bush is out, and Mr. Clinton is in power.” Then my neighbor, deputy chief of Chad intelligence and reputed to be the chief torturer for his cousin, the president, took me by the elbow and led me aside.
“I will have two Toyotas ready by noon, and along with my combatantes, we can get you across the desert to Sudan. If we act quickly, you will be safe before they come for you.”
It hit me that since these people had no experience with a peaceful change of government, nothing in their lives had prepared them for a transition of state power that did not involve war, death and vengeance on the officials of the losing regime. Since I was such an official of the losing regime, I was doomed to execution or, at the very least, imprisonment and torture.
I said something like, “Thank you for such a kind offer, but I’ll be OK.”
And I was, much to the amazement of Mousa, my gardener and cook. I kept my job, (as did the ambassador). It was reported in the neighborhood that I had most powerful “gri-gri” (magic).
The episode left me with a recognition of the difference in the collective experience of a people. Also, my neighbor’s offer was the most neighborly act toward me that I have ever experienced.
However, given the rhetoric of the current presidential campaign in our country, with threats to “lock her up,” and not-so-vague references to some factions taking violent action if their candidate loses, perhaps the cultural gap is more superficial than I thought.
Thomas Bovaird
Hilo