We are still in NDJ, the capital of Chad. In the nine years I’ve been coming out here, this is the longest it has taken to move on to the east and visit the refugee camps. I knew it was coming, sooner or later. It was later, on my 18th visit, but it’s still very frustrating.
Somehow, our permits to travel are on the desk of an official, but they are not signed. Now we are doing a collective crossing of fingers so that those papers get a little extra ink on them on Monday.
Best case scenario, we fly to Goz Beida on Tuesday. That would give us three days to visit Djabal camp and the Darfur United Soccer Academy and then move on to Kou Kou for three days, so we can visit camp Goz Amir and the Little Ripples school.
I can’t complain too much—because complaining does not help at all. We’re planning to make the most of our time here and in the camps. Today, we got to visit the home of our good friend Amos. It was wonderful to get a taste of N’Djamena that we had never had before.
As I write this, I’m looking across the river at a beautiful sunset. I can’t complain. Well, I do complain, and then I say “here and now” and be in the moment.