ABSTRACT
There’s a major boulevard in N’djamena that must have been beautiful once. Amid the gutted buildings and tarmac pocked by mortars, some peach archways have survived. They stand in the shade of trees, a pastel colonnade, lining each side like so many French roads. Relief workers who had been to Chad before the Libyan-backed civil war confirmed N’djamena’s former beauty. Like Beirut used to be, they told me.
