The following reports from the team of Stop genocide Now are part of the videos and story that I posted on the previous post.
We get so involved in our own world that we neglect to think of others' lives in other countries. And our media would rather tell us about Britney Spears and the like, than provide real news a lot of the times.
Here is some news:
Night in N’D—waiting.
It is past 1am in the capital of Chad. There has only been sporadic fighting, since the sun went down. I assume and hope that fighters need the rest and will take it easy for the night. Another better hope is that the fighting is over, and the people of Chad will begin a peaceful rebuilding of their city.
We were not evacuated, as we had hoped for. More than half of the people here were evacuated, including UN personnel and others (I’m not exactly sure of criteria, but they did not want Americans at that time). The people here are all huddled in to the dining area, where they brought in some of the cushions from the outside chairs for people to sleep on. Most are sleeping, after an exhausting day.
Right now, mosquitoes are one immediate, annoying problem. Snoring could be one, with some lions in the snoring department in the room, but it sounds even comforting to hear people resting and not talking about what happened or what might happen next.
I just cannot help but reflect on the days before coming back to N’D, the ones we spent in the camps with Darfuri refugees. The little children that we met went through horrors many times worse than we are going through here. As I sit here on the floor of the hotel restaurant after a day of craziness, I cannot imagine what it does to a child to endure living through extreme violence and then be sitting for years for help to come.
Paz,
Gabriel
It was a close one. Bullets flew over our heads and parts of the walls and objects around us came raining down on us. We were already lying on the ground because the attack on the hotel had started just a few minutes before, when we came running down from the third floor. We made it to the bar area and went belly down behind a low partition wall.
The shots broke through the lobby glass and in to the bar, with heavy shooting in return from the French soldiers positioned around the hotel. KTJ and I crawled towards the low wall to feel more protected, but it just did not feel safe, to tell you the truth. As I crawled, I touched a small metal object that was burning hot, a bullet that had just ricocheted around the room. I have a little souvenir to remind me of the excitement. The shooting continued, and we were yelled at to make it across the bar area, right through the line of sight from the outside. “Low and fast, KTJ,” and we made a low run for it to the kitchen area, where everyone was congregating. French soldiers, very intense French soldiers, were running from one side of a long corridor that went from hotel front gate area to the yard in the back. We moved out of the way to one side, then to the other.
There are approximately fifty people in the hotel, maybe a few more. It has been calm for the last two hours, and the soldiers have escorted us, one by one, to our rooms to get essentials. We are leaving many bags and carrying only three backpacks.
If things remain calm, there might be an evacuation tonight, but it is all in a wait and see mode. We hear conflicting reports about what is happening outside, but the most consistent one is that the President is being taken out of the country by the French, but I decide not to really believe anything until it is completely confirmed and reconfirmed.
Now it’s a waiting game. I am hoping that the airport is controlled by the French and that the evacuation will take us there. I struggle to write all of this, knowing that my family will read it, but I will repeat what I have said in other posts: as crazy as this all is, we are relatively safe and following the instructions of the people that know more of what is going on. I know that I will soon be posting from a safe area.
Thanks for all the love, and we’re sending it back from N’D.
Paz,
Gabriel
Only the screen of my computer and the small emergency fixture above the African statue light the dining room. I can hear familiar voices and urgent news in French passing through the crowd. We have all gathered here after the attack and are waiting to be evacuated from N’Djamena. A plane flies close to the banks of the Cheri and several people jump. My heart sinks to my stomach, it sounded like a bomb.
An hour and half ago, Le Meridien was under fire. From who, we don’t know and have no intention of pointing fingers in an all too complicated military offensive on the city. Gabriel was in room 306 connecting to the bgan and uploading our recent video. I was in front of the room filming French military setting up their stations at either end of the L-shaped building. A think brown layer of smoke incases the city before the blue of the sky takes over.
Gabriel retrieves me and brings to the back porch, you can see more artillery in the sky from here. We wrap up, he goes to the bathroom which is at the front of the room, facing the street and I stay to send one more email.
Bum. Bum. Bam. Bam. Bummbum. Plaster shot from the side of the wall. The smell of smoke creeps under the door. Sh*!. F*-#. Okay. Grab the bgan, grab the bag, we need to join the others. My heart races and we make our way to the door. The bullets riddle the wall and door of 306. S-*^! No wait. Okay. Retreat to the behind the bed until it stops. A moment of silence, our only chance. Staying well below the waist high wall, my legs carry me to the staircase, my momentum almost tipping me over forward. Down three flights of switchback stairs and to the left through the doors to the lounge. Everyone is gone but a few people lying flat on their stomachs or backs.
I duck into the corner. The men surrounding me speak English, wondering where we came from and what we saw. I explain the situation from the top floor. A few of the men get up and move, like others, towards the all glass window entrance at the front of the hotel as silence settles around us.
Oh Sh*!. Its begins again and this time it is aiming for me. The vase above me breaks. A bullet enters the wall a foot or so above my head. I get closer to the wall. Scratched radio messages and shouting “C’est la ba. C’est la ba.” Move over there. The bullets aren’t stopping. The building shakes as French troops continue their attack on our intruders. Leaving everything but the Panasonic behind, Gabriel and I quickly crawl through the lounge, past the bar and into the dining room. Go. Go. Go. Into the kitchen.
My eyes adjust to the light as we weave through; I begin to see the faces of those who have been camped out with us most of the day. The shooting doesn’t cease for another good ten minutes. I breathe. In and out. In and out.
I am feel relatively calm huddled in the corner of the kitchen leaning against the cool tile walls. French military weave back and forth resituating the machine gun in front of the lounge.
You never know how you are going to react until you are in it. I have often thought about this. My reaction was quite simple. Breathe. “F#*-!” Breathe. Okay. Go. Wait. Avoid the glass. Breathe. Go. Wait. Ahhhhh, calmness. Breathe.
As I write this, screams come in over the radio and dusk is falling on N’Djamena. The French escort people to their rooms to retrieve their papers and luggage. We have been asked if we want to evacuate. And we said yes, as most others in this room have said.
Gabriel returns from the grounds to use our satellite phone. News reaches me that Teresa contacted the embassy and the embassy stated that we refused to leave when they came to get us. My relative calmness turns to annoyance and then anger. F*!#ers. What liars. Nobody but the MINUCAT head located here in the hotel has asked us, and that was less than 30 minutes ago. Liars. Teresa will call again. Dusk falls over N’Djamena and no certain word on a flight home.
Our team is safe: Josh, Jeremiah, Gabriel and myself. No one in the hotel has been hurt. We wait.
Salaam, KTJ
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