Oasis for Expats - Book 1 - Published in 2009

         First Choice Books, Victoria, BC    ISBN 978-1-926747-78-1

When a group of Canadians find themselves working on a water project in a remote part of West Africa, they instinctively become a close social unit. A Club with a swimming pool and tennis court becomes their place to meet - their oasis. Here they can gripe about the heat and dust, the unreliable power supply and problems that plague the water project. It is also a place of refuge when civil unrest within the country threatens them.

The story unfolds through the eyes of four main characters:
     Larry Knight - the Project Manager of the Canadian consulting team
     Balu - the Assistant Regional Manager of DAWWA, the Damboni water authority
     Herta Switzer - the wife of a Canadian drilling inspector on the consulting team
     Greg Erickson - a Canadian hydro-geologist on the consulting team

Excerpts:

Balu (In his ancestral town of Gwawada, the former centre of the Wawa nation)

     “Yes, father Baba, I have seen their suffering when I drove here. But the Canadians will soon be drilling seven-hundred and fifty boreholes in the countryside.”
     “Wah! Seven-hundred and fifty?” The number takes a while to register. “That sounds like very many, engineer son.”
     “Not when you consider that we have almost a quarter of a million people in the North Region who are in dire need of water. That means every borehole will have to serve over three-hundred people.”
     His father nods, slowly digesting this information. “Our pump here gives water for all of Gwawada. We have many thousand people here.”
     “Yes, father Baba, but these new boreholes will be much smaller and have hand pumps, not power driven pumps. It will take several minutes to fill just one bucket.”
     “Ah well, I am sure the people will be happy to provide their labour if it gives them clean water.”
     “Yes, I hope so. But people cannot really be happy until we have rain for the crops to grow. The two year drought must end.”
     “Ah, my son, I am glad you mentioned that. There is going to be a rain dance tonight. Will you come?” A flicker of a smile crosses his lips. “That is, if you have any energy left after your night of pleasure.”
     Trust his father to be the first to know about his exploit!

Larry (When first meeting Bill McPherson, a British advisor to the DIRDA irrigation authority)

     Dorothy brings me a beer, then sits down beside Bill. “Aye, laddie, we ha’ been looking forward to yeer Project, because we hope ye Canadians will weelcome us into yeer social circle.” With wistful look she adds, “It was so much easier when the dam was being built. Then there weere lots of people to socialize with.”
     At this point a black servant in a white uniform appears and starts setting the table. I almost break out in a laugh when I notice that he is wearing white gloves. Trust the British to keep up that colonial tradition. Like the Africans I saw on the plane, his face is marked with lined scars.
     “This is Tenga, our houseboy,” Dorothy informs me. “Tenga, this is Mr. Knight from Canada.” Tenga smiles and nods at me and I respond in kind.
     “Mr. Knight weell make many boreholes for yeer people,” Bill tells Tenga.
     At this news, Tenga’s eyes light up and he shyly comes over and extends his hand to me. “Oh, sir, that is very much wonderful! I welcome you to Damboni.” I shake his hand, but then he suddenly looks very self-conscious and quickly moves back to the table with an apologetic glance at Dorothy.

Balu (Meeting with the Wawa Naba, the traditional leader of the Wawa nation)

     Balu is finally meeting with the Wawa Naba on the matter of borehole nominations. He has been putting it off, but he knows his father will question him very hard the next time he visits his home in Gwawada. He has just explained the rules that the Canadian Consultants and the Regional Planner have developed to make these nominations.
     The Naba confers with his spokesmen, who then address Balu. “The Naba asks why they are saying that the water will only be for the people? The cattle must drink, too.”
     Balu shrugs, staring at the floor. “The Canadians are insisting on that. The hand pumps are for the people, the cattle are to use the traditional river sources.”
     The Naba and his spokesmen again confer. “What happens if the traditional sources dry up, like they have this year? We recently had a problem at a village not far from your home of Gwawada, where the Fulani herders started a fight because the villagers did not want them to use their dugout at the river. Several people were killed.”
     “The Fulani are a big problem,” Balu says with a snort, silently wishing he could confer directly with the Naba instead of having to communicate through the spokesmen. “They should have stayed in Burkina Faso.”
     As though sensing Balu’s thoughts, the Naba replies directly. “Fortunately there are not many of them in Damboni. But we must learn to live with them, Balu, just as we live with the Muslims.”

Larry (Checking out the houses that have been set aside for the Canadians)

     I open the door and immediately smell a strange odour, rich in ammonia. When I open the door to the living room, it almost overwhelms me. My eyes start watering and I can hardly breathe. I turn and see Balu right behind me.
     “What is the smell, Balu?” I ask, gagging as I speak.
     “Ah, Darba, the Finance Officer, lived here. He had chickens in the hall. We must open the windows and let it air out.”
     “But the smell is coming from the living room.”
     “Living room? We call a large room a hall,” Balu says with a laugh. 
     I would be tempted to laugh, too, if it weren’t for the fact that I’m now saddled with a house that housed chickens. Whom can I possibly give this place to?
     “Any ideas on how to get rid of the chicken smell?” I ask hopefully.
     “Maybe we can wash the walls and ceiling with a chlorine solution?”
     I sigh. “Alright Balu, let’s give that a try.”

Greg (Greg and Dave arrive in Niamey and are driven to Damboni)

     Bill pulls into a small parking area off the highway and Larry pulls up behind them. As Greg opens the door, the hot noonday heat catches him by surprise. He can see from Dave’s expression, he is surprised, too.
     “Time to make some shade,” Bill says. “Gee’ me a hand here, Greg, me lad.”.
     Rolled up on the roof rack is an awning he now pulls out. One edge is attached to the van.
     “Here is a hammer, some pegs an’ two poles, Greg. Let me see wha’ kind of a boy scout ye were.”
     Within a few minutes they have a shaded area of four by five metres. The effect is quite amazing; as soon as they get under the awning, the noonday heat is quite bearable. Dorothy meanwhile has dug out some folding chairs and a table. “Aye, all the comforts of home,” she says with a chuckle. “Sorry, we only ha’ four chairs. Ye can sit on the cooler, Greg.”
     Dorothy slices up a fresh baguette she bought in Niamey and soon they are all contentedly munching on ham sandwiches. Naturally there is also beer and pop in the cooler, along with pickled olives, carrots and fruit.
     “What is that!” Dave suddenly shouts, pointing to the horizon.
     “Well weell ye look at tha’.” Bill face breaks into a smile. “This is yeer lucky day, me lads and lasses. Looks like elephants heading this way.”

Herta (In Calgary, she receives news that Janet has been accepted at a missionary school)

     That evening, after they celebrate with Janet at their favourite restaurant, they study the lists of school rules and the dress code that came with the letter. They are extensive and detailed.
     “Good grief,” Janet says with a groan. “Church attendance every Sunday and no jeans allowed? What kind of rules are those?”
     Sam laughs and gives Janet a hug. “Looks like they plan to make a lady out of you!”
     “More like a nun, it looks like,” Janet retorts, looking downright glum.
     Herta chuckles. “I’m sure you will find the missionary kids no different from your fellow students here. Kids are kids the world over.”
     Janet gives her mother a rueful smile. “Yah, I guess you’re right Mom. And it certainly will be great to be close to you guys, even if I am two countries over. Besides, after all the hype about my Africa trip at school, I couldn’t possibly go to a European school instead.”
     “That’s my girl,” Sam says with a nod.

Greg (The African crew teaches Dave Friesen the African hand shake)

     Sami tutors Dave on the grasp, the slide and the finger snap. “Well, that’s pretty easy,” Dave says, after a few tries. “Okay, everybody line up and let’s shake hands.”
     Sami laughs with obvious pleasure when they finish. “Of course, that is only one style of African handshake. Joe Boy and Isaac, show them some of the others.”
     Joe Boy and Isaac smile broadly and start greeting each other in all sorts of handholds. They start with the sliding-snap style, then grasp each others wrists, from which they slide into an underhanded grip and on and on. In the background, the other crew members are showing various other grips.
     Dave shakes his head and looks at Greg. “I guess we have as much to learn from them as they have to learn from us!”
     “Now let us show you how we greet a desirable woman,” Sami says, still laughing. “We add one move to it to show that we would like to have sex with her.”
     Dave shakes his head. “I’m not sure I want to know about that one. See you tomorrow.” He moves away and starts packing up the equipment.
     Sami looks at Greg. “Did I say something wrong?”
     Greg gives him a reassuring smile. “No, Sami - it’s just that Dave is a very religious man. The topic of sex is not something he likes to talk about. But you can show the handshake to me.”

Balu (The Dambonians welcome the Canadians with a durbar)

     With the speeches over, Balu can hear the rustling behind him as the staff edge towards the pito table set up on the left hand side of the workshop. Kworko holds up his hands and halts them, ordering the waiters to serve the honoured guests and Canadians first. Then the crowd surges to the table to help themselves to as much pito as they can. In a matter of ten minutes, the supply is entirely gone.
     Balu, meanwhile moves over to chat with the Canadians. He tries to get Pengi to come with him, but she flatly refuses. “I no can speak English.”
     Balu introduces himself to the various new Canadians that have just arrived. He immediately likes Sam, but is not so sure about Burt. The drillers, Jake and Woody, seem to treat him with a fair degree of disdain. What surprises him most, though, is that Sam’s wife, Herta, immediately starts talking to him and asking all kinds of questions. He is surprised because in Damboni the women usually defer to the men and only speak if they are spoken to. He can see that with this whole group of Canadian families now on the DAWWA compound, things in Navrona are definitely going to change.

Herta (After an evening at the Club)

     As they enter their house, Sam looks at his watch. “Only fifteen minutes till the power goes off. Get candles and matches ready.”
     “No sweat, Pop,” Janet says, then adds reflectively, “just look at that moonlight. I rather like it when the power’s off. I’ve heard more nature sounds in the past week than I ever heard in Calgary.”
     “Last night was more than nature!” Sam exclaims. “I thought that drumming would never end.”
     “Dorothy tells us that there must have been a funeral in Navrona. Then they have to keep the drums going from sundown to sunup to ward away the evil spirits and to let the soul leave in peace,” Janet tells him.
     “How the heck can a soul leave peacefully with all that racket!” Sam scoffs.
     “Hey, Pop, ease up. We’re in Africa, right?” She gently punches him in on his arm. He grabs her and hugs her.
     “You’re absolutely right, my princess! And I love it!”
     “Well, I have to say this for their drumming,” Herta says with a chuckle. “Every time I thought I was going to go mad from one rhythm, they changed it just enough to make it tolerable for a while.

Greg (With Jeff Truman, an American Peace Corps volunteer who is trying out solar cookers)

     “Well, these cookers work best between 10:00 and 2:00, which is the traditional African slow period. Most work’s done in the cool of the morning and evening. Meals are also eaten at that time. So the solar cooker doesn’t fit their traditional life style.”
     “Can’t they cook their food during the 10:00 to 2:00 period and then eat it later either reheated or cold?” Greg asks.
     “Exactly what I said, dude. So they asked how they’d store the food. They don’t have refrigerators, so the flies’ll get at the food. They say they have to eat the food as soon as it’s cooked.”
     The pot on the solar cooker comes to a boil. Greg glances at his watch - a scant eight minutes have passed. He follows Jeff into the house and watches him making tea.
     “What do you take in your tea, Greg?”
     “Just black please, and no sugar.”
     “That’s rad, dude. I need milk and lots of sugar.”
     “Yes, I noticed that the first time I met you,” Greg says with a laugh. As Jeff hands him a cup, Greg asks, “What about heating water for washing clothes on the solar cookers?”
Jeff grimaces. “They don’t use hot water for washing.”
     “So the solar cookers are a hard sell?”
     “Looks like, dude!”

Larry (Complaining about DAWWA employees that are being assigned to the Canadians)

     “Kworko, one of our trainees doesn’t seem to be working out too well.”
     He looks a bit surprised. “Oh, who might that be?”
     “It’s Hadji. He comes to work in his own car and is rather arrogant towards the other trainees. He takes off whenever he feels like and just isn’t the kind of person we need for our siting crews. Besides, he wants to be boss, but refuses to learn the basics.”
     I see a pained look cross Kworko’s face. “We must be careful with Hadji. His father is a very important person. If he wants to be boss, we must give him a boss position.”
     Now it is my turn to look surprised. “I’m sorry, Kworko, but that’s not how we are going to operate our Project. Either Hadji accepts a minor position and attends work regularly, or else you’ll have to find other work for him.” It is my first real confrontation with Kworko and I have no intention of being manipulated.
     “Well, Larry,” Kworko says with a sigh, “let me see what I can do.”

Herta (With her nursing background, she accompanies the Anglican mobile clinic)

     The next patient is a young pregnant woman. Herta is shocked, the girl can not be more that fifteen or sixteen. Sister Christina checks the record sheet, then asks the girl to accompany her and Sister Annette to the “examining room.” She also motions for Herta to accompany them. They enter the small enclosure, the girl undresses and lies down on the cot. Sister Christina puts on the stethoscope and latex gloves and carries out her examination. Meanwhile Sister Annette is talking to the girl and asking her various questions.
     “Excuse me for interrupting,” Herta says, as she watches Sister Christina performing the vaginal examination. “Is there something wrong with the girl’s labia? Isn’t that scar tissue I see?”
     “Ah,” Sister Christina says with a nod, “welcome to Africa. What you are seeing is the result of female circumcision. It is still ritually carried out when a girl is between four and eight years old. It varies from village to village, but generally they try to remove as much of the clitoris and labia as possible.”
     “Oh my God!” Herta exclaims, then blushes. “I’m sorry Sister Christina, but I find this horrifying. Does the government actually condone this practice?”

Balu (Balu is worried about the wheat Canada has given to ease the famine in Damboni)

     “First of all, the Governor announced the arrival of the ship load of Canadian wheat at yesterday’s ceremony. We already were aware of this and know that the Canadian Government wants it distributed in the North Region, where the famine is the most severe. But you will notice the Governor said the shipment was for Damboni, not specifically the North Region.”
     “Aren’t you splitting hairs?” Larry asks. “Surely the government will honour Canada’s request.”
     Balu shakes his head. “We, here in the North Region, are convinced that most of the wheat will never reach us. Not unless the Canadian High Commission seriously monitors the offloading and overland shipment.”
     “But surely they’ll be doing that anyway.”
     “They will think they are doing it,” Balu says firmly. “Our big officials will assure the High Commission that all is looked after, there is no need for close inspection, and then wheat will start disappearing and it will be too late to do anything about it. I beg you to contact the High Commission and stress that they must be extremely vigilant.”
     “I appreciate your concern, but surely such a request would be better coming from the Wawa Naba.”
     Balu shakes his head. “With all due respect, sir. I seriously believe we need a white man to make this request.”

Greg (Sami has just had an accident with one of the Toyotas)

     “Were you wearing seat belts?”
     “I was, but you know Joe Boy and Isaac.”
     Greg nods. “How did you get Joe Boy to the hospital?”
     “Mr. Jake, the driller, was just heading to camp and picked us up.”
     “That was lucky. What happened to the Toyota?”
     “Mr. Jake said he would let Mr. Ron know. He went there just now.”
     “What happened to you, Sami? Did the doctor look at you?”
     “Yes, Doctor Abuji checked Isaac and me and says we are fine. I just banged my knee against the dashboard.”
     “What did the doctor say about Joe Boy?”
     “He is checking him now. I think you should go to the hospital.”

Herta (The Switzers and Burt, another drilling inspector, on R&R in Niamey)

     They spend Sunday morning enjoying the pool area at the Les Jardins. About halfway through the morning, they are surprised to see Burt joining them.
     “Holy crap, this sure beats living in camp, eh Sam?” Burt says with a smirk.
     “It sure does Burt. How’s your R&R going?”
     “Goddamn great, I spent another evening chatting with Jim Stiles. Man, that guy’s an operator. He’s making business arrangements to import medical supplies into Chad.”
     “So what’s he doing here in Niamey? Why isn’t he in Chad?”
     “Hell, it’s too dangerous to go there. Qaddafi’s grabbed part of Chad and so there’s all kinds of fighting there. Hell no, Jim’s making his deals here in Niamey with representatives from Chad.”
     “So why’s he letting you in on all this, Burt? What’s he got in mind for you? Don’t get involved in anything stupid now,” Sam admonishes.

Larry (Larry is treating Adele to dinner at a seaside restaurant in capital of Damboni)

     The dinner turns out to be very tasty. I’m delighted when Adele opts to eat with her hands. I remember the fuss Karen made. Happily, I join her, sucking my fingers with relish.
     By 10:00 we have finished our after-dinner coffees. Meanwhile the moon has moved to high overhead.
     “So, are we going to take the plunge?” I ask, secretly wondering whether the words might be misconstrued.
     “Well, I guess I raised your expectations, so I’d better follow through.” That, too, has interesting innuendoes.
     I get the bathing gear and towels and we change in the hotel washrooms. Again I am struck by how great she looks in her two piece suit. I take her hand and we make our way to the beach. The sand is cold now, but the water feels warm against the night air. We wade to waist depth and then plunge in. Can life get better than this?