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.
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