It helps to have friends in high places

Another fun weekend! Started out with the power in the entire city being turned off at 8am on Saturday. I guess they do this every few weeks to do repair work, but there isn't any announcement. It just happens and everyone just sort of adjusts accordingly. Soon after, the water went off--dry pipes. Nothing. Luckily, we always keep a few gallons of filtered water in the fridge and there is a community well just across the street with unfiltered water that was built by the missionaries. For many people in the surrounding area, in and outside of the compound, this is the primary source of all their water, i.e. no faucets to turn on, no indoor plumbing, and they walk long distances with large jugs and tanks early in the morning to fill up for the day. Although power came back about 3PM, the water was off until about 9AM this morning. I realized that there are varying levels of "water luxury": being able to drink from the tap is something I'll never take for granted again. It occurred to me that the indoor plumbing we have here in the compound, although you can't drink from the tap, is still very luxurious compared to most people who live in Ngaoundere. Again, very humbling.

Karen and Donna and I went to the Petite Marche on Saturday, which is this large area of shops that tangle around through alleys and backstreets. We were warned by several people that it is easy to get lost inside.

There are hundreds of fabric shops. The colors and patterns are so beautiful. Eye candy.

The highlight of the whole weekend, and definitely on the top 5 list for my visit thus far, was the private tour of the main mosque in Ngaoundere, and being able to meet (briefly) the Lamidot, who is the leader of the Muslim community in the region; sort of equivalent to an archbishop, I think. This was really special--you don't just walk up to a mosque and ask to wander around the grounds, especially if you are a woman. But this is why it is good to know people in high places. Which it turns out, I do.

One of the first  people I met, on my very first walk into town with Jacalyn on my second day here, was Joseph, an embroiderer/tailor that works at a shop on the main road. Joseph is from Ghana and is English speaking, which was nice to be able to have an easy conversation with someone. I also met the owner of the shop, Aboubakar, who's business has been so successful, that he employs 15 people, which is pretty big here. Turns out Aboubakar  is also so successful that he is the Lamidot's private tailor.

The work they do in this shop is really beautiful and I decided that an embroidered tunic and skirt would be my souvenir for myself. It needed alterations, so I've been in the shop several times and have had nice conversations with Joseph and Aboubakar (more of a language barrier but with help from Joseph and others, it works). So on Saturday, I brought Karen and Donna to the shop, and it was really fun to be doing the introducing, rather than always being the one being introduced. In the course of the conversation between Donna, who does speak some French, and Aboubakar, he invited us back to the mosque and the Lamidot's compound today for a tour.

We knew this was a big deal, especially given women are not generally allowed in the mosque. And it is obviously a big deal to be the Lamidot's tailor, because as we walked up to the entrance, horns literally blew for Aboubakar. He arranged for one of the men there to give us a tour of the compound, including a quick bon jour and bow with the Lamidot.

Outside the grounds of the mosque and the Lamidot's compound.

The "band" that was playing as the ministers walked in to see the Lamidot. They are really loud, like your whole body vibrates from the beating of the drums. Note the guy with the loudspeaker. He is chanting/praying/etc while the men are playing their horns and drums and the whole scene is deafening.
I thought, "So you're the guy who wakes me up at 4 am everyday!"

The ministers filing in to see the Lamidot

I, of course, wore my new tunic, which was a way to thank Aboubakar for his favor to us, and a way to show off his work.

Me and Aboubakar at the mosque. Yes, I have my head covered....I would not be a good Muslim.

Below is Joseph, who actually did the sewing of my garment and the design of the embroidery. He told me he had to quit school at the age of 15 when his father left (which here means died), and though he always hoped he would get back to school, he figured out that  that probably would never happen, so he needed a skill and an occupation. He is a really intelligent guy, very sweet.
Also, that's Hans in the middle.