Should I try this, or should I try to the left? I have little time to decide: I’m moving at about 50kph and I need to keep my momentum up because if I slow I’ll start sinking. Stopping is not an option. Straight ahead looks like about 20 meters of lake, with only the highest points of the grooves carved into the soft mud showing, made by the 20 tonne truck that passed on this ‘road’ when it was last ‘passable’. After those 20 meters the tracks curve to the right out of sight and God knows what lies beyond. I am tense and anxious and the pace and frequency with which such obstacles keep appearing in front of me is relentless.
So should I try it, or try to the left? I have no idea how deep that water is and my steering wheel will be of little use. The car will plunge a couple of feet as I enter the water. I’ll probably be bucked and bounced as the tires alternate between finding something to grip and sinking sharply into the soft mud under the surface. If I’m wearing my seatbelt, the force with which I’m thrown forward when I hit the water and upward with every bump will cause the belt to tighten again and again, stopping me from reaching the steering wheel quickly enough to at least try to avoid any solid object I might be careening towards. If I’m not wearing my seatbelt I’ll be bucked out of my seat and hit my head on the ceiling of the cabin so hard, I’ll see stars. Dashboard warning lights will flash (oil, battery, air intake) and belts will start to slip and squeal as the car tries to suggest that I really shouldn’t be doing this to it.
So should I try it or try to the left? I’m not even convinced this is the road. I’ve driven this 2 hour stretch in both directions for the last 3 days, but each time it’s a different combination of time of day and proximity to the last rain to make it look like a completely different path. And they are all just paths through the bush. There are few clues as to exactly where I am. I passed couple of mud huts a few kilometers ago and also a cattle camp, but there is little else to remark.
So should I try it or go to the left? Left looks like marshland the other side of that tree and I’ve no idea if it’s passable or if it will bring me back to the direction I’m wanting to go. I can’t go to the right: there’s a dense cluster of young tress that are not old enough to have grown a sufficient root system to support me and not small enough for me knock over with the front bumper. And I really want to try to avoid killing more trees: I’ve scraped past so many as I’ve tried to edge my way around crater-like holes, under a few as I foraged for a semi-dry path around a lake like the one I’m currently facing, and knocked a couple flat as the arse end of the vehicle has slid sideways and the steering mechanism served only to change the direction in which the mud is flying.
So should I try it, or try to the left? If I get stuck I’ll be humiliated, and will have to wait for another vehicle to pull me out. It’ll be a good few hours before another passes, if at all. I need to get to the day’s distribution point and start moving these radios so that I can start back in good time. I don’t want to be out here at night again. I’ve gotten considerably better at driving in these conditions so I’m not as terrified as I was a week ago. It was a hellish journey to get here: 11 hours and at night following a heavy rain when the world shrunk to only what was illuminated by my one working headlight and none of those 10m were in any way inviting. I got stuck twice (lack of skill) and my colleague got stuck once (lack of traction). I felt real fear at the prospect of being stranded out here with no help and only the local wildlife of snakes, scorpions, mosquitoes and lions for company. We arrived at the catholic mission around 11:30pm, exhausted and very, very muddy. Neither my camera nor my mobile phone survived the journey.
So this has been my last two weeks: a lot of driving. I would wake up early each day, tighten the front shock absorber that keeps smashing it’s busing to smithereens, siphon some diesel from the Father’s store, top up the windscreen washer fluid, fill the back of the car with radio boxes and head out as early as I could to distribute as many radios as possible and get back by sunset. I‘m impressed at the extent to which my morning routine has changed and proud to have added new skills to my CV (and some new vocab).
We’ve been staying with Father Sergio – a priest with the Camboni mission. Similar to the priests we stayed with in Leer, he’s been here a few years, but it young – about 35-40. These men are amazing – they have learnt the local language, the customs, are mechanics, medics, chefs, butchers, bakers, engineers, carpenters, masons and barbers all in one. The catholic diocese keeps them well stocked with tinned vegetables and other such necessities, but generally they stay put and get on with work. Sergio’s hospitality and expertise in vehicle maintenance is a welcome gift in an environment that is in every other way hostile. He also shared with me a tin of fruit salad last night. What luxury.
But back to the task at hand: should I try this? Despite my anxiety, I am also optimistic and have faith in Toyota. I’ve been praying regularly. I get the revs up to about 3000, shift into second, grip the steering wheel tightly and pop the clutch…
Saturday, May 31, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Nyaal Distribution - snakes, mud and priests
2008-05-10 Saturday
Some debate in the morning and the day before as to if I was actually flying, where to and when. Becky (an English girl from the NGO Internews) came to collect me in the morning and we flew together to Thurjal, an airstrip in the middle of nowhere. Gabe, my boss, showed up with Yoko and we all travelled to nearby Leer – greeting amongst the Nuer is “Maaaleh”
Later I met fathers Guillermo and Francis of the Camboni mission, upon whom we’re relying quite heavily to carry out our program. They’ve both been in Sudan for decades and liked poking fun at me because of their work in Glasgow and the difficulties of the tribes of the UK.
Met a bunch of catechists who are registering the names of the radio recipients. Only one member of the group spoke English. The radio show we want them to listen to is in English and Arabic. Yet another example of a supply led development project. Also met charismatic members of the women’s group. Madam Ruth was particularly lovely.
Leer is a bit desolate. It’s basically an airstrip with settlement either side. The whole place has an ashen pallor if that’s possible. We stayed at a compound run by Save the Children. It was empty, so they had empty rooms and 2 landrovers just sitting there. Seems that all NGOs operate this way. In the mess hall there was filtered water, cooked food, satellite TV and internet. Should I tell my mother this about her favourite charity?
2008-05-11 Sunday
Came to Nyal in the morning – took about 2.5 hours on roads that looked like they have only recently dried out. We followed the new road, bearing left randomly. If it rains again while we are here we will be stranded. There is an airstrip here and a flight is scheduled to arrive on Thursday to collect Yoko.
Met the charismatic head catechist Michael, studying to be a priest and his English is excellent. Also met the Payam and the Panyijar County administrators (James). People tend to identify with their Boma more than village or county.
2008-05-13 Monday
Did a radio distribution in Panjar. 200 radios took about 4 or 5 hours. The crowds were plentiful and the flies there in force. The volume of people crowing around us kept me in the shade when the sun moved around the tree and the volume of people kept me distracted from the amount of flies climbing on my face at any given time. The others left Maker and I do handle Panjar and continued onto Ganyel. We got a text on the Thuraya about an hour later telling us they were stuck in mud. Maker went in our vehicle with Samuel to go and retrieve them. As my crowd and the light dwindled with no sign of the vehicles I began to worry. They came back at the light was just fading, about 4 hours later. We returned to Nyaal, and despite my exhaustion, I didn’t sleep well.
2008-05-14 Tuesday
Another distribution, this time in more-remote Pondock. I had a catechist working with me who complained incessantly. Father Memo came in the morning and we all went from Nyaal to Ganyal. We picked up the spindly Payam Administrator who looked and fulfilled his role of being utterly useless. I set up in the Pondock church that was quickly overrun with young men wanting radios. All had cards, though, and all showed utter disrespect for their women who they pushed and shoved out of the way to get to the table. We had to stop 4 times to try and get people out of the compound. They refused to move. The catechists working in the church were useless at controlling the crowd who would advance inch by inch until they were literally on top of me. I moved 4 times: first I was in a tukul but with the door permanently occluded by someone fighting to get out and 6 people fighting to get in, I could neither see from the lack of light, nor work due to the constant shower of grit from the roof because people were shoving against it. Then to the courtyard, but my attempt at taking one man and one woman failed as the men refused to stay in a line, or give the women room to come forward. Then to the large hall, with 2 doors. We arranged it one for men one for women, and I started with a fair number of women, but again they quickly vanished to be replaced by men who crowded and complained. The people were so close around us I could hardly breathe and I couldn’t think of a better circumstance to contract TB. Gabe and others arrived at around 16:30 and tried to continue distributing form the car. He managed another 16 that way. He found more women and on trying to bring them in, they fought amongst themselves. There were torn dresses, guys forced their way through the wooden fence and we took the opportunity to pack up quickly and escape – 40 radios short of our target.
I was relieved to be heading out with a good amount of light (the journey back to Nyaal would take about 2.5 hours). The rain came only lightly in the morning. On the ride out we all looked skyward intermittently in hopes that it wouldn’t continue. Thankfully, our prayers were answered each day – with only a light sprinkling in the morning. So the weather was in our favour, the light good, the roads dry after the hot day and then Samuel ran over a goat on our way out of the town in which we had made few friends. This was going to be expensive. The goat’s front leg was clearly broken. The owner was retrieved. Thankfully we had a few Nuer catechists with us to negotiate on our behalf. The price was settled at 100SDG (USD50), which all believed to be fair. We loaded the goat into the back of our car, having paid compensation and as we were setting off, the owner said “you will return the goat tomorrow, yes?”
Brakes were applied sharply. Men exited. The South Sudan Reconstruction and Rehabilitation Commissoin (SSRC) administrator was called. Chairs were brought. We were going to be a while.
After about a further 45 minutes of negotiation, we realised that there are apparently 2 fines when hitting a goat here – one for hitting the goat, one for replacing it. We paid 100. A new guy (the real owner) demanded 400 more. The SSRC man negotiated 50SDG more from us and offered 100 from his office (it will probably never come). We thanked him kindly and got moving quickly, picking up a few passangers when we stopped. They snuck in with the goat. I figured they could keep it company.
We arrived in Ganyal to find Yoko and Father Memo in a similar state, without a goat, of course. They were tired, overrun and had made few friends in the day. One guy started verbally abusing father Memo when he refused him a lift back to Nlyaal. He told him to go to hell. Father Memo replied “after you”.
It was dark when we set off. The very bumpy journey back to Naal took the better part of 3 hours.
This was the first night I slept all the way through. I was surprised, particularly because I found out what it was that was rustling in my roof – a frickin' huge snake.
2008-05-14 Weds
Final distribution in Nyaal, here in the county commissioner’s compound. We had learnt from our experiences yesterday, and took advantage of the metal fence and gate, so held the crowd outside and only let in women with cards. The first hour was manageable. But then the children started scrambling to the front and fighting their way in. Then the young men came and started trying to push their way in. Gabe held them off playing the role of chief bouncer. I did issue resolution and gave confiscated cards to women who showed up with none. The others coordinated the registration and handed out radios. We were impossibly busy. After what seemed like 4 hours I checked my watch to find that it was only 10am.
A soldier showed up – drunk out of his mind, and probably cranking on amphetamines. On sight of him the children ran. He seemed in a sufficiently inebriated stated as to use them as target practice. The trouble was he wanted payment for his services. We negotiated him down to one radio from his demand of one case. His effect didn’t last and both the kids and the young men started to get aggressive. Three began to get very ugly. One kid, very small, started trying to grab the radios from the women as they tried to exit. Then two guys, both very tall, started picking a fight. Gabe got into a shoving match with one, and the other started shoving me. We called the distribution to a close – it was at 11am, we were 240 radios short of our 2000 target. But given that our target group seem to either be giving their radios away or having them taken off them, we doubted it made any difference.
It’s nice to have the afternoon free. I’m resting and I feel like I’ve earned it.
We needed to distribute the remaining radios so Michael assembled the remaining catechists and we let them organize themselves to distribute. We left the compound and sat in Father’s place next door and soon heard shouting. There were lots of women, but I sense that many had collected yesterday. It was relieving not to have to sort it out. Michael worked very hard and Gabe has hired him to oversee the listening groups in the area.
Robert met with NDI in Juba – they want to extend our funding for another 6 months, and give us another million to vamp up the civic education component of the program. I’m trying to think of a creative way to do this – like call ins, questions posed to the show and then responded to – but there are so many hindrances. No phones and no post here. The radio show can’t do a regional focus and doesn’t really do newsy type stuff, it’s just discussion and if they did focus on an area, there’d be squabbling. I’ll keep thinking.
We ate the goat – the silly cook managed not to completely mess it up, but he did still hack it to pieces and boil it. The father and sister came to eat with us. We lamented over the situation here. Despite incredibly fertile ground, very few of them are farming. Partly because they didn’t learn while they were displaced, and partly because WFP is still distributing food in a place that has plentiful papaya, mango and eucalyptus trees. There is no need to be giving handouts here. The UN apparently tried to do a livelihoods program a few years ago, but the big man chopped all the tools and claimed that the oxen provided couldn’t be used to farm because their culture prevented them from beating cattle. This is crap. Father suggested putting a dress on it and calling it a woman, the men would have no problems beating it then.
I and my snake were restless tonight.
2008-05-15 Thursday
It rained. It rained heavy and hard in the morning for about 2 hours, and then a good drizzle that didn’t seem to want to stop and saturated everything – including the airstrip. Yoko’s plane couldn’t land, but we had to wait until 4pm to find that out – now time and the conditions of the road were seriously against us. It was a very rough and long journey back to Leer. The first half was nothing short of a rollercoaster and Gabe, who was driving, tried not to get stuck and not to veer off the road – I wasn’t entirely convinced that he was in full control of the vehicle, but thought it best not to worry about this. We had father Memo and Sister Agatha with us. Surely that would help.
We cleared the roughness to get to the new road built by the prospecting Chinese oil company. The County Commissioner had had the sense to demand that if they were going to be coming into his county they would have to build the road, but he didn’t specify the quality. So they build the road by digging either side of the path and compacting it. Either side of the path was marsh. Thus they made a road out of marsh mud that is long, wide and utterly useless when it gets the slightest bit wet. We had no traction and the muck would accumulate so thick on the tires and wheel wells that it would prevent the wheels from turning. We had to stop every few kilometres to dig out the clay. We, stupidly, had carried no shovels so had to do it using sticks, a pipe we were carrying and our hands. This lengthened the journey considerably and in the 6 hours it took to pass this stretch of road we saw no other sign of life. We all doubted that we would make it to Leer that day.
We did reach Leer and a dry road late in the night – around 11pm. The sisters of the catholic mission had waited up for their colleague to arrive and laid out a very generous spread for us on arrival: fired eggs, bread and tomato salad – made with olive oil and balsamic vinegar! Sheer luxury. It was like having 7 grandmothers fussing over me. I slept very well.
2008-05-16 Friday
We got a late start because the clay had not dried and fallen off as we’d hoped to had to dig out more. This was much easier now that we had a spade. We bid farewell to the father and sister and headed off to Bentiu. Yoko still needed to make her connecting flight to Khartoum on Saturday and we were unsure what was the best thing to do – see if we could get her on a flight in Wau (unlikely, they need 72 hours notice for a reservation), or try and make Rumbek for tomorrow morning by 10am. The latter seemed impossible, but it looked like the only option. We covered about 900km that day. The roads were considerably better for much of it, but there were some good stretches that were nothing short of appalling due to wear. The efficacy of the county commissioner seems to be demonstrated by the state of his roads. We reached Wau at around 9pm and prepared to leave at 5am for the final 4-5 hour journey to Rumbek. My stomach seemed to have had enough of the whole experience and started running badly. I think I woke up half the compound with the noise I made on my visit to the latrine in the middle of the night.
2008-05-17 Saturday
Rough journey to Rumbek. We made it by 10am, just, losing 3 shocks and our brakes on the way. We arrived to find that Yoko’s flight was at 2pm. Arse. Came back to the compound and slept. Home sweet home. I get to rest tomorrow as well, then off on Monday to Marialo that doesn’t appear on many maps and if it does it has no roads leading to it. I have no idea what to expect.
Some debate in the morning and the day before as to if I was actually flying, where to and when. Becky (an English girl from the NGO Internews) came to collect me in the morning and we flew together to Thurjal, an airstrip in the middle of nowhere. Gabe, my boss, showed up with Yoko and we all travelled to nearby Leer – greeting amongst the Nuer is “Maaaleh”
Later I met fathers Guillermo and Francis of the Camboni mission, upon whom we’re relying quite heavily to carry out our program. They’ve both been in Sudan for decades and liked poking fun at me because of their work in Glasgow and the difficulties of the tribes of the UK.
Met a bunch of catechists who are registering the names of the radio recipients. Only one member of the group spoke English. The radio show we want them to listen to is in English and Arabic. Yet another example of a supply led development project. Also met charismatic members of the women’s group. Madam Ruth was particularly lovely.
Leer is a bit desolate. It’s basically an airstrip with settlement either side. The whole place has an ashen pallor if that’s possible. We stayed at a compound run by Save the Children. It was empty, so they had empty rooms and 2 landrovers just sitting there. Seems that all NGOs operate this way. In the mess hall there was filtered water, cooked food, satellite TV and internet. Should I tell my mother this about her favourite charity?
2008-05-11 Sunday
Came to Nyal in the morning – took about 2.5 hours on roads that looked like they have only recently dried out. We followed the new road, bearing left randomly. If it rains again while we are here we will be stranded. There is an airstrip here and a flight is scheduled to arrive on Thursday to collect Yoko.
Met the charismatic head catechist Michael, studying to be a priest and his English is excellent. Also met the Payam and the Panyijar County administrators (James). People tend to identify with their Boma more than village or county.
2008-05-13 Monday
Did a radio distribution in Panjar. 200 radios took about 4 or 5 hours. The crowds were plentiful and the flies there in force. The volume of people crowing around us kept me in the shade when the sun moved around the tree and the volume of people kept me distracted from the amount of flies climbing on my face at any given time. The others left Maker and I do handle Panjar and continued onto Ganyel. We got a text on the Thuraya about an hour later telling us they were stuck in mud. Maker went in our vehicle with Samuel to go and retrieve them. As my crowd and the light dwindled with no sign of the vehicles I began to worry. They came back at the light was just fading, about 4 hours later. We returned to Nyaal, and despite my exhaustion, I didn’t sleep well.
2008-05-14 Tuesday
Another distribution, this time in more-remote Pondock. I had a catechist working with me who complained incessantly. Father Memo came in the morning and we all went from Nyaal to Ganyal. We picked up the spindly Payam Administrator who looked and fulfilled his role of being utterly useless. I set up in the Pondock church that was quickly overrun with young men wanting radios. All had cards, though, and all showed utter disrespect for their women who they pushed and shoved out of the way to get to the table. We had to stop 4 times to try and get people out of the compound. They refused to move. The catechists working in the church were useless at controlling the crowd who would advance inch by inch until they were literally on top of me. I moved 4 times: first I was in a tukul but with the door permanently occluded by someone fighting to get out and 6 people fighting to get in, I could neither see from the lack of light, nor work due to the constant shower of grit from the roof because people were shoving against it. Then to the courtyard, but my attempt at taking one man and one woman failed as the men refused to stay in a line, or give the women room to come forward. Then to the large hall, with 2 doors. We arranged it one for men one for women, and I started with a fair number of women, but again they quickly vanished to be replaced by men who crowded and complained. The people were so close around us I could hardly breathe and I couldn’t think of a better circumstance to contract TB. Gabe and others arrived at around 16:30 and tried to continue distributing form the car. He managed another 16 that way. He found more women and on trying to bring them in, they fought amongst themselves. There were torn dresses, guys forced their way through the wooden fence and we took the opportunity to pack up quickly and escape – 40 radios short of our target.
I was relieved to be heading out with a good amount of light (the journey back to Nyaal would take about 2.5 hours). The rain came only lightly in the morning. On the ride out we all looked skyward intermittently in hopes that it wouldn’t continue. Thankfully, our prayers were answered each day – with only a light sprinkling in the morning. So the weather was in our favour, the light good, the roads dry after the hot day and then Samuel ran over a goat on our way out of the town in which we had made few friends. This was going to be expensive. The goat’s front leg was clearly broken. The owner was retrieved. Thankfully we had a few Nuer catechists with us to negotiate on our behalf. The price was settled at 100SDG (USD50), which all believed to be fair. We loaded the goat into the back of our car, having paid compensation and as we were setting off, the owner said “you will return the goat tomorrow, yes?”
Brakes were applied sharply. Men exited. The South Sudan Reconstruction and Rehabilitation Commissoin (SSRC) administrator was called. Chairs were brought. We were going to be a while.
After about a further 45 minutes of negotiation, we realised that there are apparently 2 fines when hitting a goat here – one for hitting the goat, one for replacing it. We paid 100. A new guy (the real owner) demanded 400 more. The SSRC man negotiated 50SDG more from us and offered 100 from his office (it will probably never come). We thanked him kindly and got moving quickly, picking up a few passangers when we stopped. They snuck in with the goat. I figured they could keep it company.
We arrived in Ganyal to find Yoko and Father Memo in a similar state, without a goat, of course. They were tired, overrun and had made few friends in the day. One guy started verbally abusing father Memo when he refused him a lift back to Nlyaal. He told him to go to hell. Father Memo replied “after you”.
It was dark when we set off. The very bumpy journey back to Naal took the better part of 3 hours.
This was the first night I slept all the way through. I was surprised, particularly because I found out what it was that was rustling in my roof – a frickin' huge snake.
2008-05-14 Weds
Final distribution in Nyaal, here in the county commissioner’s compound. We had learnt from our experiences yesterday, and took advantage of the metal fence and gate, so held the crowd outside and only let in women with cards. The first hour was manageable. But then the children started scrambling to the front and fighting their way in. Then the young men came and started trying to push their way in. Gabe held them off playing the role of chief bouncer. I did issue resolution and gave confiscated cards to women who showed up with none. The others coordinated the registration and handed out radios. We were impossibly busy. After what seemed like 4 hours I checked my watch to find that it was only 10am.
A soldier showed up – drunk out of his mind, and probably cranking on amphetamines. On sight of him the children ran. He seemed in a sufficiently inebriated stated as to use them as target practice. The trouble was he wanted payment for his services. We negotiated him down to one radio from his demand of one case. His effect didn’t last and both the kids and the young men started to get aggressive. Three began to get very ugly. One kid, very small, started trying to grab the radios from the women as they tried to exit. Then two guys, both very tall, started picking a fight. Gabe got into a shoving match with one, and the other started shoving me. We called the distribution to a close – it was at 11am, we were 240 radios short of our 2000 target. But given that our target group seem to either be giving their radios away or having them taken off them, we doubted it made any difference.
It’s nice to have the afternoon free. I’m resting and I feel like I’ve earned it.
We needed to distribute the remaining radios so Michael assembled the remaining catechists and we let them organize themselves to distribute. We left the compound and sat in Father’s place next door and soon heard shouting. There were lots of women, but I sense that many had collected yesterday. It was relieving not to have to sort it out. Michael worked very hard and Gabe has hired him to oversee the listening groups in the area.
Robert met with NDI in Juba – they want to extend our funding for another 6 months, and give us another million to vamp up the civic education component of the program. I’m trying to think of a creative way to do this – like call ins, questions posed to the show and then responded to – but there are so many hindrances. No phones and no post here. The radio show can’t do a regional focus and doesn’t really do newsy type stuff, it’s just discussion and if they did focus on an area, there’d be squabbling. I’ll keep thinking.
We ate the goat – the silly cook managed not to completely mess it up, but he did still hack it to pieces and boil it. The father and sister came to eat with us. We lamented over the situation here. Despite incredibly fertile ground, very few of them are farming. Partly because they didn’t learn while they were displaced, and partly because WFP is still distributing food in a place that has plentiful papaya, mango and eucalyptus trees. There is no need to be giving handouts here. The UN apparently tried to do a livelihoods program a few years ago, but the big man chopped all the tools and claimed that the oxen provided couldn’t be used to farm because their culture prevented them from beating cattle. This is crap. Father suggested putting a dress on it and calling it a woman, the men would have no problems beating it then.
I and my snake were restless tonight.
2008-05-15 Thursday
It rained. It rained heavy and hard in the morning for about 2 hours, and then a good drizzle that didn’t seem to want to stop and saturated everything – including the airstrip. Yoko’s plane couldn’t land, but we had to wait until 4pm to find that out – now time and the conditions of the road were seriously against us. It was a very rough and long journey back to Leer. The first half was nothing short of a rollercoaster and Gabe, who was driving, tried not to get stuck and not to veer off the road – I wasn’t entirely convinced that he was in full control of the vehicle, but thought it best not to worry about this. We had father Memo and Sister Agatha with us. Surely that would help.
We cleared the roughness to get to the new road built by the prospecting Chinese oil company. The County Commissioner had had the sense to demand that if they were going to be coming into his county they would have to build the road, but he didn’t specify the quality. So they build the road by digging either side of the path and compacting it. Either side of the path was marsh. Thus they made a road out of marsh mud that is long, wide and utterly useless when it gets the slightest bit wet. We had no traction and the muck would accumulate so thick on the tires and wheel wells that it would prevent the wheels from turning. We had to stop every few kilometres to dig out the clay. We, stupidly, had carried no shovels so had to do it using sticks, a pipe we were carrying and our hands. This lengthened the journey considerably and in the 6 hours it took to pass this stretch of road we saw no other sign of life. We all doubted that we would make it to Leer that day.
We did reach Leer and a dry road late in the night – around 11pm. The sisters of the catholic mission had waited up for their colleague to arrive and laid out a very generous spread for us on arrival: fired eggs, bread and tomato salad – made with olive oil and balsamic vinegar! Sheer luxury. It was like having 7 grandmothers fussing over me. I slept very well.
2008-05-16 Friday
We got a late start because the clay had not dried and fallen off as we’d hoped to had to dig out more. This was much easier now that we had a spade. We bid farewell to the father and sister and headed off to Bentiu. Yoko still needed to make her connecting flight to Khartoum on Saturday and we were unsure what was the best thing to do – see if we could get her on a flight in Wau (unlikely, they need 72 hours notice for a reservation), or try and make Rumbek for tomorrow morning by 10am. The latter seemed impossible, but it looked like the only option. We covered about 900km that day. The roads were considerably better for much of it, but there were some good stretches that were nothing short of appalling due to wear. The efficacy of the county commissioner seems to be demonstrated by the state of his roads. We reached Wau at around 9pm and prepared to leave at 5am for the final 4-5 hour journey to Rumbek. My stomach seemed to have had enough of the whole experience and started running badly. I think I woke up half the compound with the noise I made on my visit to the latrine in the middle of the night.
2008-05-17 Saturday
Rough journey to Rumbek. We made it by 10am, just, losing 3 shocks and our brakes on the way. We arrived to find that Yoko’s flight was at 2pm. Arse. Came back to the compound and slept. Home sweet home. I get to rest tomorrow as well, then off on Monday to Marialo that doesn’t appear on many maps and if it does it has no roads leading to it. I have no idea what to expect.
Prime Location
This was an email I sent on 19 May 2008
It feels like I've been here a month. The past week has brought me to
some equally beautiful and ugly places. In each I would remark to
myself "now THIS is in the middle of nowhere" only to go another 100km
further into the nowhereness.
The project I'm working on aims to help build South Sudan's civil
society. There is nothing here: only a nascent media, no national
newspapers, no nation-wide radio or television, few roads (let alone
paved ones), no phones, no post... The project has helped set up a
daily radio program that addresses matters of the country: peace,
democracy, human rights and the upcoming referendum on independence.
The more capable South Sudan looks come 2011, the greater the chance
that independence from the North will come. My project is helping
achieve this by distributing 70,000 radios to the most remote corners
to allow people to hear about and play their role in the elections,
referendum and development of their country.
So in the past week I've traveled about 2000km, helped distribute
about 3000 radios, held back an angry crowd for whom we didn't have
any, slept under a snake, prayed for and then cursed the rain, dug our
car out of the soft clay into which it sank (5 times) and felt utterly
isolated while with no other sign of human life for 6 hours. But
I had good company and a sense of purpose throughout, so it was all
fine.
Whilst I am unsure if I'll ever get the muck out from under my
fingernails, I am sure that the last week has fulfilled me to an
extent that 2 years working in London did not (no offense
colleagues). I know, I'm still in the honeymoon phase, but this just
feels right. And after a week out there, my little mud hut in Rumbek
feels very luxurious, and in a prime location, indeed.
I am aware that my delight might rapidly fade along with the novelty
of being here. It's not all roses and not a friendly place. In fact,
it feels outright hostile. The country itself is fucked. After 25
years of fighting, the next generation of able-bodied men seem unable
and unwilling to do anything. The land is fertile and uncultivated.
Mango and papaya trees dot the landscape, but no one farms. They queue
up at WFP distributions. There is immense demand for services and
goods, especially from the overfunded NGO army, but this demand is
not met by Sudanese entrepreneurs. There are none of those, it seems.
The mechanics are Kenyans, the truckers and shippers Somalis, the
restaurateurs and bakers Ugandans. They charge extortionate prices,
pay no taxes and will inevitably leave, taking their fortunes with
them.
The expat community is small, incestuous and comprised mostly of
desperate women and lecherous men. I've met a couple of very pleasant
people, though, and I get on well with my project manager who's
basically a lad with a big adventure budget.
And it's just gotten bigger: our funders have agreed not only to
extend, but also to triple our funding. I'd like to take part credit
for this, but given that I've only been here a week, I really don't
think I can. Good news is that this could turn into something more
permanent for me. Let's hope it all continues to go as well and I'll
assess after a few more weeks of work. I'm off again today to do
another distribution in a place not as far away, but with just as
difficult a crowd, I hear. Add to the list of training requirements -
bouncer classes.
It feels like I've been here a month. The past week has brought me to
some equally beautiful and ugly places. In each I would remark to
myself "now THIS is in the middle of nowhere" only to go another 100km
further into the nowhereness.
The project I'm working on aims to help build South Sudan's civil
society. There is nothing here: only a nascent media, no national
newspapers, no nation-wide radio or television, few roads (let alone
paved ones), no phones, no post... The project has helped set up a
daily radio program that addresses matters of the country: peace,
democracy, human rights and the upcoming referendum on independence.
The more capable South Sudan looks come 2011, the greater the chance
that independence from the North will come. My project is helping
achieve this by distributing 70,000 radios to the most remote corners
to allow people to hear about and play their role in the elections,
referendum and development of their country.
So in the past week I've traveled about 2000km, helped distribute
about 3000 radios, held back an angry crowd for whom we didn't have
any, slept under a snake, prayed for and then cursed the rain, dug our
car out of the soft clay into which it sank (5 times) and felt utterly
isolated while with no other sign of human life for 6 hours. But
I had good company and a sense of purpose throughout, so it was all
fine.
Whilst I am unsure if I'll ever get the muck out from under my
fingernails, I am sure that the last week has fulfilled me to an
extent that 2 years working in London did not (no offense
colleagues). I know, I'm still in the honeymoon phase, but this just
feels right. And after a week out there, my little mud hut in Rumbek
feels very luxurious, and in a prime location, indeed.
I am aware that my delight might rapidly fade along with the novelty
of being here. It's not all roses and not a friendly place. In fact,
it feels outright hostile. The country itself is fucked. After 25
years of fighting, the next generation of able-bodied men seem unable
and unwilling to do anything. The land is fertile and uncultivated.
Mango and papaya trees dot the landscape, but no one farms. They queue
up at WFP distributions. There is immense demand for services and
goods, especially from the overfunded NGO army, but this demand is
not met by Sudanese entrepreneurs. There are none of those, it seems.
The mechanics are Kenyans, the truckers and shippers Somalis, the
restaurateurs and bakers Ugandans. They charge extortionate prices,
pay no taxes and will inevitably leave, taking their fortunes with
them.
The expat community is small, incestuous and comprised mostly of
desperate women and lecherous men. I've met a couple of very pleasant
people, though, and I get on well with my project manager who's
basically a lad with a big adventure budget.
And it's just gotten bigger: our funders have agreed not only to
extend, but also to triple our funding. I'd like to take part credit
for this, but given that I've only been here a week, I really don't
think I can. Good news is that this could turn into something more
permanent for me. Let's hope it all continues to go as well and I'll
assess after a few more weeks of work. I'm off again today to do
another distribution in a place not as far away, but with just as
difficult a crowd, I hear. Add to the list of training requirements -
bouncer classes.
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