It’s raining. We don’t get to see this very often out here. It makes it difficult for us, as we have to drive back and forth from village to refugee camp on a dirt road that becomes a mud road—and even a water road. But it’s very good for the refugees and the local population. They need to plant their crops and hope that they produce if they are to get anywhere close to having enough to just survive in this region.
Last rainy season was very bad. It started late, and it stopped early. A refugee told us that he has faith that this will be a good, heavy season. It has to be.
Even if it rains, it’s not easy for them. They must pack up and go long distances to the lands where they set up their temporary farms. There are no services of any kind in these areas, and malaria season follows the rain. The refugees rent the plots of land from Chadian citizens. Many also have to promise part of their crop production—and a larger part if they want to reserve the land for the next season. If the crops do not produce enough, they become indebted.
The rains are just starting, so there’s hope. As I sit here typing this, thunder is making this whole room shake—my heart jump. I hope that the sky is letting everyone know that it will be generous and give enough water so that people around this region do more than just survive for another year.