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.