Camp Ciara: An oasis of calm in the midst of war

THE sign reads Chad International Airport, but there is just a handful of airplanes are parked on the sandy, red runway — and certainly no duty-free.

Like many poor countries the bureaucracy is crazy — stamped on my passport I have a notice telling me to report to the emigration service within three days. The French general escorting the group of visiting journalists has to rescue me twice from a swarm of armed guards both to get me into — and later get me out of — the country.

On the trip into the capital city, N’Djamina, women and children are sorting through rubbish heaps while groups of men sit under the shade of trees on the roadside. The only visible ads are one for Guinness in bottles and one for a bank featuring the president, Idriss Deby, and his friend, Libya’s president Gadaffai.