Volume 8
August 16, 2004

Hello, everyone.

Last week, after Allyson's nice dinner courtesy of her German colleagues, she decided that it was time to give her crew in Garsila a taste of Southern cooking, so she decided that, on their next day off, she would treat them to some fried chicken. Now, doing fried chicken for 16 people in the middle of Africa is not that easy. It's not like you can go the grocery store and buy four chickens, already cut up and packaged. But if any of you have ever been in the kitchen with Allyson when she decides to cook, you know that once a picture of the meal is firmly planted in her head, there is nothing you can do to stop her. Even the most complex recipes must bend to her will.

So, last Friday (which is the one day of her week that vaguely resembles a day off), Allyson cooked fried chicken for her housemates. To do this, she took her allowance of local currency to the souk on Thursday and bought four live chickens. On Thursday evening, she emailed me, and said this: "I am going to try to fry the chickens I bought today. They are walking around our courtyard as I type. Tomorrow the guard will kill them. I feel terrible looking at them, but not too terrible. I'm debating if I'll watch the carnage or not."

I never got word on whether she witnessed the actual beheadings, but I did get word that the chicken came out great. Marinated in goat milk, instead of buttermilk, but authentically Southern nonetheless. She even made gravy. Like I said, once she's cooking, you can't stop her.

Last week, on the news, I had heard reports of new Janjaweed attacks in Darfur, which concerned me, but evidently these attacks took place in Northern Darfur, leaving Allyson, her colleagues and the displaced people they are trying to help well out of the way. Whew. I'm finding that it's very interesting, keeping tabs on the situation in Sudan from here. The news, as news is wont to be, often seems quite dire, but then, when I get in touch with Allyson, I find that on the ground, they are simply continuing their work, trying to feed people and nurse them back to health. But that work can be very trying.

Here's a story Allyson emailed me last Friday:

"A tough day at the feeding clinic. One mother is here from a nearby village called Deliege. She is here with her sick child and has three children at home she was worried about yesterday. I arranged travel for her on Thursday but she got news today that her eldest child had died of malaria. Of course, she was crying very hard, but quietly. Oh, so sad. My interpreter told her to stop crying, because everyone must die. It's really that simple for most people here, because death is so common, which was the way it was for everyone in the world about 100 years ago, of course, but we are not used to it in the States. Thank God. Then they brought a premature baby who has tetanus over to me, and it promptly aspirated on its vomit. As a consequence, it started gasping for breath. We told the mother that it would probably die, and tears started running down her face. At least the mother's mother and father were there with her. Her husband was not around. Many men have run away to Khartoum because of the war, leaving these poor women to try and provide for their children, of which most women have four or five."

Once again, there's nothing I can add to that.

Thanks again to everyone who's reading these reports and sending their good wishes. Allyson asked me to give everyone her love.

Chuck

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Links to Aid Organizations
Doctors Without Borders   UNICEF   International Red Cross

Informational Links
 CIA Sudan Factbook   United Nations   Passion of the Present  New York Times (Africa section)
NPR "Fresh Air" program on Darfur   The Guardian's Darfur Diary

Last updated Wednesday, January 19, 2005