Khawaja adventures

So, I’ve finally found my crew. The Rumbek expat crowd are a real mixed bunch: managers of two of the local hotels, African Expeditions (Afex) and Safari Style, one a South African, the other an English Kenyan; two Russian pilots; American policemen training the local police force; an ex-military American and his German counterpart working (strangely enough implementing a water & sanitation program) for the fashion-world funded Obakki Foundation; UNMISS (UN Mission in South Sudan) guys that live in self-sufficient, air conditioned containers on the UN World Food Program compound; religious Americans working for church-funded NGOs (aka “The Menenites”) and people working for NGOs such as Oxfam (me!) and IRC – Americans, an Italian couple and  'the beautiful people' - a beautiful Scottish girl and her equally beautiful American boyfriend.

Safari style is the venue of choice for leisurely Sunday afternoons sat by the pool. Or, more to the point, splashing around IN it. Pool volleyball is the order of the day after we’ve tucked in to the Sunday barbeque, which reminds me of barbies at home ... a point which I’ve made out loud in conversation, only to have it jokingly suggested that all that was missing was the shrimp. Stupid American-oriented tourism oriented campaigns. Tainted the reputation of Australian barbeques forever more. Shrimp? Bah!

One thing I’m particularly enjoying, now that I’m more familiar with the different establishments on offer, is the variety of food I can access should I feel like a change from the catering at the Oxfam guesthouse. While our cooks Mary and Margaret do a very good job of feeding us, the rotating menu of posho (or ugali, a bread-dough-like, carb-loaded food not unlike mashed potato... but with less taste), beans, rice, sukumawiki (cassava greens), goat stew or the boniest chickens I’ve ever seen start to get a bit repetitive after a while. And do they use a lot of oil... ? you bet. I’ve been avoiding the meat dishes, if not to save my heart, then to save my taste buds. 

There are a number of Ethiopian restaurants in town, which are good to eat at. I really like Ethiopian food, particularly the big, round, almost fizzy flat bread that forms the base of all their dishes, be it meat, vegetables, lentils. South Sudanese food also features a similar bread, ‘kisra,’ which is just as good, but slightly different, and is served as an accompaniment rather than underneath the food, which you then mop up with your hands.

But it’s the Western food that I enjoy a lot – because it’s familiar, and of course delicious. One thing that Afex do very well is wood-oven-fired pizza. So good. They even say its the best pizza in South Sudan – and I can’t disagree; it’s the best I’ve come across. We regularly hit up Afex for their pizza during the week; and while you don’t always get what you’ve ordered, by the time it arrives you don’t really care. It’s got CHEESE on it!

But what I enjoy most of all is the company. I do love our staff at Oxfam, and really enjoy their company. They’re also a mixed bunch, from South Sudan, Uganda and Zimbabwe, and our Program Manager is an Ethiopian; so it’s not like I’m the only foreigner. And they certainly know how to put on a good barbeque (nyama choma – yum!) and turn the Oxfam compound into a raging disco on a Saturday night. But the food I would normally eat and the activities I would normally do are still quite different to what these guys like. Plus I see the Oxfam staff all day every day; I live and work with them 24/7. 

There’s also my local buddies, Dak and Dier, two guys that I hang out with, one of whom shares a love of basketball with me. I regularly meet them in Freedom Square at the basketball court and watch the game, or go to a local bar, have a drink (normally soda, these guys don’t drink beer!) and talk shop. Early in the morning we sometimes go and shoot some hoops in the square too – before anyone else takes over the court!

I really enjoy hanging out with them, to learn what it means to be a young person in Rumbek, to find out what they want to do with their lives. They are cousins, one of whom left Sudan during the war (he lived in Egypt and Nairobi for a while), the other who has never left Rumbek. Dak has never been educated beyond school, but hopes his brother, who lives in Canada and is married to Canadian, will help him to pay for training to become a pilot; Dier is more studious and is currently studying to complete his entry level exams to get into University. They are both very different, and I really like them both. But what I find difficult about hanging with them is that their idea of ‘doing things’ together usually involves just hanging out – they don’t have the cash to go and do something that costs money, and its too hot in the middle of the day for them (or me for that matter) to go on a day-long excursion, so late afternoon/evening is when I see them most – but security issues mean this is also limited. I’ve only just managed to become familiar enough with how things work, plus build up the courage, to request if they can come into the compound. They aren’t allowed to come and hang out in the staff social area, and I think my colleagues would find it weird anyway, so we just have to hang out in my office or at the front of the compound. Or I break curfew and go and hang out with them at the local pub. It’s really frustrating.

So while I love hanging out with the other expats, it’s not because they’re white; it’s because they’re ‘my people’. They understand the need to escape the everyday grind and do ‘normal’ things. 

So we get together for movie nights; cook up pancakes (after a debate about golden syrup vs maple syrup); hold bake-offs in the Safari Style kitchen (based on debates about definitions of cookies vs biscuits – my Anzac biscuits were clearly the best); go on picnics on the outskirts of town; have spur-of-the-moment night swims in the Safari Pool, or day swims in the Hillview Hotel pool; and of course, drink loads of alcohol together. The Russians even managed to get a carton of Fosters from Juba. Now that really impressed me! Drinking can really help you to relax on a Friday (Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday...) night.

The other thing that’s really helped is that by knowing these guys, I suddenly have access to transport, and generous people who are more than willing to help out in that department. We currently are short of drivers, and with our security restrictions (no walking outside the compound after 7pm, only car travel, and we must be back by 11pm), plus the long distances between different locations in town, it certainly helps to have people who can drop you home or take you on picnics.

Hanging out with these guys makes my time in Rumbek so much fun. It’s really made a difference to being here – I’m really starting to enjoy it, and always look forward to weekends.  Plus I’ve made some good friends to boot. Too bad they’re not hanging around for long; but none of us humanitarian workers ever do.

Buckets of rain and security worries

The rain has finally subsided.  The storm began with a flurry of activity, the dark clouds colluding to rapidly block out the entire sky, then summoning the wind to whip the dust up off the streets and dispatch it with gusto, sending people scurrying in its wake. Once the wind comes, the rain isn’t far behind. It doesn’t slyly sneak in and surprise you; it hits with brute force, sudden and powerful, battering the window panes, smashing into the roof like waves pounding the shore, drenching anyone foolish enough to still be out amongst it. The gale force winds, sudden flashes of lightning, rumbling thunder and torrents of water bucketing down still give me a sense of awe, no matter where I am when I experience them.

Normally these storms disappear as quickly as they came. But this one had staying power. It bruised and battered us for a good half an hour before settling in for a long lunch, retreating to seamless grey coverage and constant, soaking rain that lasted a good hour or so. Once past, the silence smothers you like a wet blanket, but the serenity is only fleeting. Then the frogs take up the call to arms.

The cacophony of sounds produced by our amphibian friends is quite incredible. The rhythmic honking and croaking that continues on into the night, every night, is a sound to which I never tire of falling asleep. Step outside the compound - once you’ve braved the quagmire that it becomes every time it rains - onto the equally mushy mess of a road, and the sound becomes deafening. Walk across the compound after rain (or any time really) and the frogs almost scurry across your path, the speed at which they travel. I’ve never seen such tiny, or rapidly moving frogs. My favourites are the little guys that flail across the bathroom floor, so desperate to escape your evil clutches that they overturn themselves, like demented miniature clowns performing for an audience of giants.

Rumbek’s peacefulness betrays a turbulent undercurrent. Today the rain kept us inside the compound, but had the storm not broken we still would have been trapped within. There were gunshots fired late in the afternoon, and so we were restricted from going out. The shots were fired after the unfortunate death of a man crushed underneath a reversing army truck. His family quickly sought retribution from the poor driver, who now not only has to live with the terrible mistake he has made, but also the fear of revenge killing by the deceased man’s family, who were very quick to take up arms. Upon seeing them coming, guns in hand, the army fired in the air to scare them away; shots were fired by both parties but no-one was hurt. Around 60 police were apparently deployed to the market and Freedom Square in order to keep everything under control. The driver had to be escorted away by fellow soldiers. Revenge killings are common here, and people resort to gunfire to settle debts. 

A couple of weeks ago we heard gunfire when some recently laid-off prison staff sought justice for their sacking by going straight to the prison with guns in hand. Shots were fired by both parties but again, luckily, no-one was hurt.

The voluntary disarmament of people here is ongoing and apparently successful, but there are obviously still plenty of firearms around. My staff have talked of people handing in only one of their many guns in order to continue to protect themselves, while still complying with the authorities. The second stage of disarmament will apparently be mandatory. I’m not sure if it will involve compensation, but the sooner that guns are out of South Sudanese hands the better, especially in this part of the country. 

The Dinka are known for their temper and their fly-into-rage temperament, and tribal clashes between Dinka Agar, Dinka Nuer and Dinka Lok, amongst others, are ongoing and have been for long. People are known to be friendly and welcoming one minute, and angry and violent the next. You sometimes see women fighting with each other, their friends and relatives surrounding them to pull them off each other. Even in the hygiene drama that one of the schools did for Global Handwashing Day, a mock situation escalated into fighting between two characters in the drama. It seems to be a normal way of settling things, whether it be revenge killings, cattle rustling, marital affairs or impregnation of young girls by the 'wrong suitor'. People settle disputes by picking up their guns and going after the perpetrators. Or targeting the brother of the perpetrator, if he can’t be found. The brother could die without even knowing what his sibling had done. His murderers may have been waiting for him to come to town for a long time, or may have tracked him down in Khartoum. But they wait, and they take their revenge when they can. And then they run. And then the cycle continues. There is too much taking of the law into your own hands here for the good of anyone.

People have told me that in the past, when fighting broke out, the tribal leaders would come together, seek out the perpetrators, put them ‘on trial’ in front of the community to their humiliation, and fine them in an appropriate number of cattle. Giving away cattle is like losing an arm to the Dinka, and their family may never recover, depending on how many they previously owned. But since the troubles between North and South began, back in the 60s and 70s, and the SPLA commandeered the people’s attention to join the uprisings against the North, the important role of tribal leaders in controlling conflict eroded. These leaders no longer play the moderating role they once did, and while independence quelled the violence substantially, this type of conflict still occurs in a number of hotspots around the country. These leaders need to once again regain control of their communities and stop this inter-tribal nonsense.

In many other areas of South Sudan, and border states of Sudan, the troubles continue. Thankfully Lakes State is reasonably peaceful. This week’s UN OCHA Weekly Humanitarian Bulletin reads: 

Food relief is being mobilised for the population displaced in the Agok area, 45 km south of Abyei town, because of the crisis in Abyei which broke out in May this year. The political situation in Abyei remained static, with military troops reportedly continuing to remain in Abyei town, acting as the key constraint to return movements of the displaced population from Agok and Warrap State. Abyei is the one state that chose both not to remain with the North nor become independent with the South Sudan, and was supposed to have its own referendum. It is also a very oil-rich state and violence continues here.

In Jonglei State, food aid was airlifted to persons displaced by inter-communal violence in mid-August. An estimated population of 21,600 people have been affected by the inter-communal attack in mid-August in Uror County, despite simmering tensions between the two communities. In a positive development, partners reported that Uror youths have agreed to refrain from any attack and to monitor reconciliation efforts until December. The unpredictable security situation in parts of Jonglei is due not only to inter-communal tensions but also the presence of rebel militia groups.

In Unity State an inter-agency assessment verified some 21,000 persons displaced by cattle-raiding in Mayendit County in early September. Humanitarian efforts also supported populations who have fled to South Sudan from ongoing conflicts in Southern Kordofan and Blue Nile states in Sudan.

 

OCHA puts out maps of the areas of concern, complete with numbers of people displaced, and symbols representing conflict that look like flash points, or exploding bombs.

Speaking of which, another issue in South Sudan that I don't know much about is the presence of landmines. UXO is apparently a big problem here, or at least it was prior to independence. Since then many areas have been cleared of UXO, in particular Lakes, which I was happy to read! I never really thought about it; mines always make me think of Cambodia, Vietnam or Thailand, not Africa. But in some areas they still remain a risk. Take this excerpt (thanks again OCHA):

Twenty people killed by landmine in Unity

A civilian bus hit a landmine between Mayom and Mankien in Unity State on 9 October, killing 17 civilians and three soldiers, and wounding seven, according to UN Security. It is not known if the mine was newly laid or old, but the area had been the centre of conflict between the militia of rebel leader Peter Gadet and security forces between March and May, and has been category four since then due to landmines and insecurity. Category four means that UN personnel are not permitted to use the road.

Scares the hell out of me.

On a more positive note, I also read with interest this part of the report:

The presidents of South Sudan and Sudan met in Khartoum over the weekend 8-9 October. President Kiir (South Sudan) reportedly announced that the Republic of South Sudan is committed to a friendly relationship and will work to build mutual understanding and dialogue with the Republic of Sudan. He also explained that his government is ready to discuss and reach a final solution with Khartoum on all outstanding issues on the economy, security, borders and Abyei status. For his part, president Bashir said a fruitful meeting was held at the ministerial level, and that all issues were discussed in the spirit of cooperation.

Hmmm. Sounds right. The South keen to make things work, the North not committing to anything. From what I read and hear on the news, the Sudanese government is deliberately and continually causing trouble for the South. But the South (apart from Abyei, whose status is still unclear) holds all the aces; they have the oil. But the pipelines head north and the only port is in Sudan. The two countries are supposed to split oil royalties 50:50 but the South don't seem to see a lot of this money. Until things are sorted out, the people won't benefit at all. I just hope that if this report is indeed true, it’s the start of a better relationship between these two states; they've been at loggerheads for such a long time - the longest conflict in African history. The people need peace, and lots of it.

So there’s a bit more of an insight into the mess that is South Sudan. At least the frogs honking away in the background will help me to sleep.

Global Handwashing Day 2011

Saturday night, 15^th October 2011: knackered. Global Handwashing Day is over, thank goodness. It was a long day, and a frustrating one, but in the end the event turned out well and I think we held one of the more successful events around the country. Go Lakes!

Together with local organisation RUWASSA and some very limited input from other organisations, and almost counter-productive input from local authorities, we coordinated Global Handwashing Day celebrations here in Rumbek. From the outset time was against us. While our team had approached the government some months before the big day there had been no movement until ten days before, when the Lakes WASH Cluster group met. It was my first meeting; I was thrown into the co-chairing of this meeting with Oxfam GB as lead WASH agency and came to the rapid realisation that in this role it was basically up to us and RUWASSA to get this thing happening.

So, a number of often painfully slow and unproductive meetings later, and some spoon-feeding of the authorities (even down to writing of invitations for them to deliver to the important people that would do speeches), we put our heads together and came up with a plan. Hold the celebrations at a local school, Riak Dor Primary School, invite the 11 other schools to participate with 200 of their students, get some of them to come up with songs and drama to perform in front of everyone, and get some representatives of the Depts of Health, Education and Rural Water to give some speeches about the importance of handwashing. Get a company in Nairobi to print t-shirts and banners which we give out to the schools or put up before the big day. Give kids a bunch of buckets and jerry cans to set up hand washing stations around the school. Use the local radio and tv stations to promote the event and put out hygiene messages, and cover it on the day. Get the local bottling companies to donate water for our esteemed government guests. Then get everyone washing their hands by the end. Sound simple enough? Ha! Not in South Sudan, and not with only ten days to spare – especially when our government friends want to make everything as slow as possible. Yes our t-shirts should have every single possible logo on them, but we’re not contributing anything financially to the day. You’re NGOs, you’ve got money, you should pay for it. And No, we don’t have the most up to date logo, but you can’t use that one on there, it’s out of date.

On the day, I must admit I was a little bit too enthusiastic. I got our public health promoters to turn up with me at around 7:45am. It wasn't that early, considering things were supposed to kick off at 8:30am with the first speech. But of course, I should have known that Africa Time would intervene. No-one was there when we arrived to put out all the chairs, except for the deputy principal, who was a bit more organised than many of his counterparts. In fact, only a few schools had arrived by 9:00am. The sound system, organised by the Dept of Information, only arrived on the back of a ute at around 10am. Timely! And none of the dignitaries, bar the Director General (D-G) of Education and the Minister for Physical Infrastructure, bothered to turn up.

So, around 10:30am, when most of the schools had finally arrived and everything was in place, we kicked off proceedings. I was actually glad that only two of them came. It meant only one hour of boring speeches rather than two. These guys like to talk! And my speech went twice as long as usual, as it had to be translated into Dinka. 

But once that was out the way, the fun stuff began. The D-G was keen to be the first one to wash his hands and he hammed it up to the crowd, firstly serious with the hand washing part but then graduating to a full face wash, including his bushy beard, which the kids thought was hilarious.

Five schools performed something: whether it be a drama, a song, a dance, or a hand washing demonstration, the kids did what comes naturally. We got a sneak preview before the day started, as the chosen performers warmed up for their big performance, but watching them against a backdrop of hundreds of dark faces with blazing white smiles and equally bright uniforms was something else. They were great.

 

What I liked most was seeing each school arrive from somewhere off in the distance, their chanting songs preceeding them together with the deep sound of their drums, their bright blue or green uniforms blazing in the sun, their almost perfect marching unison characterised by swinging arms, the lead children brandishing UNICEF banners or messages they’ve composed themselves. I loved the way they marched around and across the school compound before finally setting up their place amongst the other students underneath the old frangipani trees. And even at a young age, girls here certainly know how to make some noise! I’ve quickly learned what ULULATING means. I normally associate it with middle-eastern women, but South Sudanese women certainly have a talent for it!

It was a long, hot day for the kids, especially the ones who had turned up early. At least they got the first-in, best-dressed benefit of the shade of the frangipani trees. The others had to slog it out in the hot sun. Once the DG and the Minister closed the day with more too much talking, everyone split quick-smart, leaving behind a school playground soggy with handwashing water, soap and the remnants of a crowd once there. So we packed our bags and went out for a rewarding Ethiopian lunch – and then home to recover.

First Rumbek ramble

Flying over the South Sudanese countryside towards Rumbek gives one a feeling of BIG space. And lots of it. There ain't much down there between the trees, floodplain and snake-like rivers. A few clusters of villages are scattered here and there, but on the whole, the green land just stretches off into the horizon, suggesting that were you to go far enough, you'd fall off some distant edge.

There's even less to the capital of Lakes State than Juba. Rumbek airport is only about ten minutes out of town, and is a red dusty airstrip with a couple of little sheds to sign in and out. On arrival we were greeted by a group of very official, very well-dressed young men lined up in a perfect arrangement, those at the rear complete with shiny brass instruments. A welcoming party for us?! No such luck. No, this army band were waiting to play for some more important guests. A high ranking general, perhaps. Said guests soon materialised in the sky, rapidly approached us in a huge camouflage-painted helicopter, and landed in noisy fashion, covering the waiting crowd in a windstorm of dust. The chopper hovered above the airstrip like a dragonfly over water before finally impressing itself onto the ground.

Just like most of the roads here, the main street is Red and Dusty too, its skanky drains flanked by salons, phone shops, general stores and clothing and hardware stores - and what I like about it, and much of the central part of town - the massive old trees.

The Oxfam GB compound is a short walk away from town, and is a big, shady, spread out collection of pre-fab houses and offices surrounding a communal eating and socialising area and kitchen. Each house is labelled according to local district names. I'm living in Cueibet; others live in Rumbek and Agangrial.

After it rains, you learn that the compound also houses a community of local frogs, who hop, almost scampering, out of your way as you approach.

The staff here are lovely, and good fun. They love a drink and a dance on a Friday and Saturday night, the tables and chairs cleared away from the communal area to create a dancefloor, the TV switched off (for once) to allow the music to take precedence.

Funnily enough the only two free2air channels available are Chinese TV and a Kenyan channel called KBC. For some reason, the Chinese channel seems to be in French for 50% of the time, and in Mandarin for the remainder. Go figure. I may leave South Sudan one day, fluent in Mandarin and or French. Or maybe some weird combination of the two, with some Arabic or Dinka thrown in. It's quite an interesting combination to find a primarily Christian country with a population where Arabic is the most widely spoken common language.

Our two cooks, Mary and Margaret, and our housekeeper Rebecca do all our cooking and washing for us. It's a luxury I'm still not used to, but it's the norm around here. We don't eat badly, but let's just say oil, rice, ugali (pounded cassava), chapati and goat meat feature heavily on the menu. The many vultures that visit our compound like clockwork throughout the day don't eat badly, either. They know when grub's up.

I'm already trying to introduce more greenery, but when the market is limited to a few tomatoes, eggplant, onions and greens, it makes things a bit more difficult. We also buy many of our veggies from a localised Indian who is making a mint selling his home-grown vegetables to all the local hotels, and us.

Enter: Solomon and Peter. Our two Livelihoods officers are dedicated to the large plot of cultivated land at the rear of the compound, the garden beds of which they tend every day like their own children. Until now, the soil had remained empty - a lack of seeds available in the market and a hold-up with Oxfam's agricultural projects here mean there wasn't anything to plant. They were, to put it simply, STOKED! when I arrived with my packets of seeds. By the end of the first afternoon, we'd planted half the pumpkin, chili, tomatoes, capsicum, basil and rocket (the other half I'm reserving for when I arrive in the compound in Upper Nile, which suffers even more badly from a lack of produce!). Not a bad start, and more on the way, care of a polite but possibly desperate-sounding email to Rach, who arrives in Juba soon to manage the UN Volunteer program.

The road between the compound and town is also lined with huge old trees - oaks perhaps - all with their bases painted white to aid night-time travellers. It's a really pleasant place to stroll down to meet your waiting friends.

You know you've reached the town centre when you come across Freedom Square, the main meeting point for every one, every evening. The Square is a wide expanse of red dirt with pockets of rambling grass, remnant plastic wrappers and water bottles from those that gather here of an evening to play footballl, basketball and volleyball - or if you're part of the majority, watch everyone else doing it. The Governor's residence flanks one side of this massive space; the central police station, painted a jolly bright blue, on another. You can also try your luck at guessing which colour the painted-on traffic light is going to turn next. Favourite Rumbek sight!

On weekend evenings, the local men come out to dance their way around the square and the streets, stomping and jumping in their traditional way, pulling in onlookers as they go, getting the crowd involved. It's a great spectacle, these tall, thin young Dinka men in their traditional garb (or lack of it; the main item of mandatory clothing being a very tight pair of underwear!).

Weather-wise, Rumbek is a lot cooler than Juba. It still gets pretty hot and sticky during the day, and the evenings take a while to become cool; but the mornings are simply beautiful, the air still cool and even some fog snakes its way around the compound on some days. I'm really not looking forward to January, when it becomes unbearably hot - especially for sleeping, after midnight when they turn off the generator. I will have to make better use of the swimming pools in the local hotels (once I find out whether they're swimmable or not...)

Nice town, this. I like it already.