Editor’s Note: This post, written by Sara-Christine Dallain originally appeared on DarfurUnited.com
Day one in Ndjamena. The place is starting to feel familiar to me. It’s only my third time here, but the Ndjamena experience seems to always be a bit the same each time. I’m sitting in an air conditioned car, hiding from the heat, dust, and sunshine outside, with a UNHCR driver and Rachael, as we wait for Gabriel to exchange money. We’re in a bustling market place. I’m just staring out my window at all the life happening around me. There are shops lining the street, with people selling goods. A man is selling a large oriental rug to a woman. Next to them, a young man is throwing the rugs over a cement ledge making them visible to anybody passing by. Others are selling baskets, hair products, medicine, and sandals. Women walk by effortlessly carrying large baskets of peanuts on their head. A man strains to lift a bag the length of my body full of grain over his shoulder to carry down the street. Impressive…
Read full post on DarfurUnited.com