What I (was NOT) doing in African Country B & Chad’s recent (alleged) coup attempt
On occasion, I write about my experience traveling in Africa – to add an entertaining counterweight to my more analytical rants and musings on the events unfolding on the continent. The following is about my current travel covering parts of Africa and Europe.
Dear Readers,
Earlier this week, I was in Chad (African Country B). And I’m gonna come right out and say it – I had little to no involvement in the apparent coup attempt that may or may not have occurred in the Chadian capital of N’Djamena yesterday.
Although news is still emerging about this attempt to ”destabilize the institutions of the republic,” here’s what we know:
- Two senior generals (Weiddig Assi Assoue and Ngomine Beadmadji David), a member of parliament allied to President Idriss Déby (Mahamat Malloum Kadre), and a member of the opposition (Saleh Maki) have been taken into custody.
- Between four and eight people were killed in fighting at a military barracks east of N’Djamena.
So in sum, there’s still a lot we don’t know. As an external observer, there are two conclusions I’ve come to:
- If there was an opportune time to launch a coup in Chad, now’s the time. If there was a coup-plotter’s equivalent to the well-known poem “To the Virgins, to Make Much of Time” (from which the oft-quoted phrase “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may” comes) this would be it. What I mean is, with 2,000 of his best assault forces currently deployed in northern Mali, Déby is more vulnerable than he would be if they were not over 1500 miles away. With the president publicly signaling that these forces may be withdrawn from northern Mali, the time to unseat him would be before these forces returned home. In March, Timan Erdimi, exiled leader of the Union of Forces of Resistance (UFR) threatened to renew its previous rebellion, apparently over discontent that peace talks had never taken place. (I must caveat, though, that at present I have no indication as to who might have been behind yesterday’s disturbances). Erdimi, who is also Déby’s nephew, was a member of the coalition that almost toppled Déby in February 2008 by sweeping west across the country in a matter of days, laying siege to the presidential palace for two days before retreating east. Déby was rescued by French intervention – the French military presence of 1,000 troops and associated support elements, which already existed at the time, continuing to provide a guarantor of regime stability to this day.
- Yesterday’s events could simply be a regime-manufactured part of the larger game Déby has been playing with the international community since Chad entered the fight in Mali several months ago. Chad is well aware that it was the only African country that was capable of rapidly deploying highly capable assault forces to halt the January 2013 Islamist offensive into southern Mali. However, it appears that the international community has not, in turn, demonstrated its gratitude. With Chad hundreds of millions of dollars in the red over its Mali deployment, it may behoove Déby to demonstrate how much he could really use that influx of cash so that he could afford to sustain Chadian troops in Mali for the benefit of regional & global security. (For great analysis on Déby’s great game with the international community, see Celeste Hicks and Alex Thurston).
Anyway, that’s my take on things. I’m headed to African Country C tomorrow, and it’s already shaping up to be quite an eventful week.
What I did in African Country A (Niger)
On occasion, I write about my experience traveling in Africa – to add an entertaining counterweight to my more analytical rants and musings on the events unfolding on the continent. The following is about my current travel covering parts of Africa and Europe.
Dear Readers,
The jig is up! I’ve moved on from African Country A, which I wrote a bit about last week, so I can now tell you that I was in Niger. I got to do several cool things while I was there.
Niger River at Sunset
First, I got to be a fly on the wall during meetings with representatives of the youth movement, NGOs, and the media. There, I was privy to Nigerien civil society perspectives on the country’s trajectory, including the proactive measures President Mahamadou Issoufou had taken to mitigate spillover from instability in Libya and Mali, the country’s youth bulge and why youth engagement is so critical, fears over the spread of violent extremism from northern Nigeria into Maradi and Zinder, and instances of complicity in narcotrafficking among segments of the Nigerien political class.
Later in the week, I had the opportunity to observe a simulation of a hostage rescue by the Nigerien gendarmes.
Gendarmes prepare for hostage rescue simulation
During the simulation, I wandered into the structure where the “terrorists” were holding the “hostages,” not entirely aware that a full-scale assault was imminent. In the video that I took (which I’ve decided not to post here), you see the gendarmes entering, shooting two blanks, and the camera (held by me) diving instinctively towards the ground. What is not seen or heard in the video is my soft and slightly panicked whimpering. Later on, I got to see how the unit apprehended some of the terrorists who escaped the initial operation, searched their vehicle, and had an evidence collection unit process the scene. Since I don’t have a law enforcement background and the United States doesn’t have an equivalent to gendarmerie, it was pretty cool to see how the simulation played out from start to finish.
Gendarmerie stops fleeing terrorists during simulation
I insisted on visiting the Musée National du Niger, and although most of the pavilions were closed at the time, I did get to preview a forthcoming exhibit on the traditional dress of Niger’s Hausa, Songhai, and Tuareg populations. I also visited the Grande Mosquée de Niamey, which was very beautiful and offered a great view of part of the city from the minaret.
(Part of the) Grande Mosquée de Niamey
On my last night in Niamey, I was the guest speaker at the English Language Club at the U.S. Embassy’s American Cultural Center. I opened the session by talking about my identity as a first-generation American and then opened the session up to questions from the Nigerien audience. And let me tell you – these people gave me a run for my money! They asked me questions that covered topics from the patriotism and ethnic identity among other first generation Americans to gay rights to gun control to the politics of the climate change discourse in the United States. At the end, one of the participants asked me what I thought of Niamey and if I would return. “I’ve found Niamey quite charming, and YES I must return and experience more of the country.” I responded. “I’ve only just scratched the surface!”
First 24 hours in African Country A (and adventures re-learning French)
On occasion, I write about my experience traveling in Africa – to add an entertaining counterweight to my more analytical rants and musings on the events unfolding on the continent. The following is about my current travel covering parts of Africa and Europe. Just to be safe, I won’t mention where I am until head to the next country on my itinerary, but hopefully that doesn’t dissuade you from reading on:
I’ve started my one month long, six country tour that will have me in African Country A, France, African Country B, Germany, African Country C, and African Country D before I head back to the States in mid-May. Since this is my first time in Country A, I’ve naturally been inclined to seek out some sort of familiarity to the city I’m in based on where I’ve traveled before. The city is dusty, hot, conservative, pleasant, refined. It makes me think that this city would be the outcome if Yaoundé, Cameroon and Tamale, Ghana had a lovechild.
Upon arrival, I could tell that the immigration officer who stamped my passport suspected that I was an International Woman of Mystery based on the assortment of seemingly random visas and passport stamps. He looks up and asks ”Qu’est-ce que votre profession – exactement?” I fumble for the words for ‘one who researches national security’ since my default foreign language is, and will always be, Portuguese. That’s what comes from studying abroad in a Lusophone country rather than a Francophone one.
I muscle my way out of baggage claim and customs only to find no placard with my name on it held by any of my in-country points of contact. After about 10 minutes, the same immigration officer walks by and asks why I haven’t been picked up. I respond that I’m “hoping for” (vs “waiting for”) a driver from my hotel. Damn you French verbs. He disappears and a woman comes over asking me if I’m Anna. (I go by Anne or Anna when I travel, since most people simply ignore or can’t be bothered with pronouncing Lesley). She apologizes for not finding me earlier, saying “Anna! Nous cherchions une blanche!” (We were looking for a white woman.) We share a laugh as she escorts me to the hotel shuttle.
After checking in, the bellhop helps me up to my room with the luggage, but first we have a showdown with the elevator. As it turns out, the door militantly closes on occupants if they do not enter or leave the elevator in a timely fashion. I watch in terror as the door assaults an unsuspecting European guest. An African guest asks me “Avez-vous peur de notre pays?” (Are you afraid of our country?) I respond “Non, mais j’ai peur de l’ascenseur!” (No, but I’m afraid of the elevator!) Once we’re all safely packed in the elevator, the man asks where I’m from and what I’m doing there. I quickly realize that my usual cover story when I’m abroad – that I’m Trinidadian and I’m traveling as a tourist – doesn’t hold up at all in this place. I dislike having to explain what I do since I always get that ‘are you sure you’re not a spy’ side-glance. I manage to deflect his questions, which is easy enough b/c this dude loves talking about himself and the fact that he’s here to visit his former classmate who’s now the president.
The following day, I started my meetings and peeked in on a conference on regional security where I learned about interoperability between the local military and law enforcement in French. I don’t speak military French, so I was pretty thrilled to be able to understand what was going on. Later on, I asked to visit the museum, where I got a preview of an exhibit on the traditional dress of Country A’s various ethnic groups. By night I enjoyed brochettes de viande that were quite good, mostly because meat actually has flavor outside the U.S. And now it’s time for bed, since I have a long day of tagging along on meetings with civil society ahead of me. Also, the power keeps going out.
And then the dude said “I want to have a happy new year” (Part II)
On occasion, I write about my experience traveling in Africa – to add an entertaining counterweight to my more analytical rants and musings on the events unfolding on the continent. The following (Part II) is about the conclusion of a trip I took with a friend several years ago. It is intentionally vague about what countries we visited:
(CONTINUED FROM PART I)
During one of our stays with friends, Emma had fallen in love with their beautiful 4 foot tall metal silhouette of an African woman carrying water with a cattle horn as her dress. She managed to find a less expensive replica in the next city we visited, and insisted on buying it. I thought she was insane, since we were only 2/3 done with our trip and were constantly on the move. In defiance, I purchased a gorgeous hand-carved mahogany chair (No, not one of those silly ones with safari animals on it) in the next city. I was not going to be the only one of us with incredibly inconvenient, fragile, and cumbersome cargo.
By the grace of God, Emma’s horn statue and my carved chair made it – undamaged, through multiple flight legs – to our final destination on the continent, where we proceeded to prepare them to be checked baggage on our long journeys home. All the skirts, pants, t-shirts, etc that we’d been wearing for the past 3 weeks created a protective patchwork between our artwork and the layers of brown paper and tape that we’d purchased at the grocery. When we’d finished, our elaborately wrapped packages were impenetrable.
So we arrive at the airport and put the damn things through the x-ray machine at the entrance… but the security guard says he can’t see through all the packaging and we have to take everything apart. Not being the brightest crayon in the box, I completely fail to see what’s going on, so I stand up there, questioning how an x-ray machine could be unable to penetrate layers of paper, tape, and well, undergarments. The situation devolves into me arguing that the security guard is being illogical, and this diminutive guard insisting that we have to unpack the statue and the chair right there at the entrance to this airport. We reach an impasse, and I retreat to a corner to cool off while Emma tries her hand at resolving this conflict. After the haggling and the drama of the previous 3 weeks, I was done being pushed around.
A few minutes later, the guard comes back, smiling, and tells me everything’s okay. I ask Emma what happened, but she hustles us past the entrance and won’t speak of it until we’ve checked in for our flight, checked our precious cargo, and passed through another round of security.
Me: Why did that dude end up letting us go?
Emma: I gave him ten bucks.
Me: You did WHAT?!? (I’m against paying someone off purely based on our status as foreigners.)
Emma: Yeah, he said he ‘wanted to have a happy new year’ and I wanted to make our flight, so we went in the corner away from the cameras and I gave him ten bucks.
And there was I thinking my logic had worn down this guy’s resolve. Lesson learned, my friends.
And then the dude said “I want to have a happy new year” (Part I)
On occasion, I write about my experience traveling in Africa – to add an entertaining counterweight to my more analytical rants and musings on the events unfolding on the continent. The following (Part I) is about the conclusion of a trip I took with a friend several years ago. It is intentionally vague about what countries we visited:
Several years back, I rang in the new year in an African capital city, running for cover to protect myself from the fireworks that rained down on us from the top of the Western chain hotel where we’d opted to ring in the new year. My travel companion, Emma, and I had originally planned to spend a less pampered New Years’ Eve with a friend, but those plans were abandoned when he had to go “upcountry” to care for a sick relative.
We were coming to the end of a pretty intense 3 week-long multi-country trip which had included the following highlights:
- Emma getting hit by a wave runner in one country, and then involved in a near-miss motorbike collision while zipping through rush hour traffic in another country
- Both of us failing to come up with the requisite “payment” to obtain a “day pass” to hop over the border into a neighboring country just to see what it was like over there
- Having carnivorous ants crawling up my pants and not being able to do much about it at the time
- Narrowly avoiding a head-on collision between our bus (aka vehicular deathtrap) and an 18-wheeler not 20 minutes into one of our 8 hour journeys
Aside from these minor incidents, many flavors of drama preceded our visits and infected our stays. In one country, sensitive correspondence had just been leaked to the press, creating a tense security environment at our host’s residence for the duration of our stay. In another country, our host was implicated in what may have been a politically motivated international incident that became public as our plane was touching down on that country’s soil.
With my DC-oriented security studies background, I was able to take most of this in stride, all the while concocting contingency plans and exit strategies – in case we needed them. Emma, on the other hand, thought all of this was shady as (insert expletive here). I tried to calm her down, saying “It’s not that weird for a drunk policeman to come beat the crap out of our driver and haul him away while we’re at dinner.”
All of this is to emphasize that by the time we got to the airport to catch our flights back to the U.S., we’d had our fill of drama. But wait – I haven’t yet told you about Emma’s goddamn horn statue and the carved chair I purchased in an act of protest.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
