Juba HASH

      There is so much I could say about the Juba HASH.  Soooooo much I could say about it, but I won't, other than to say it is great fun and a really wonderful way to meet people as well as getting in some good exercise as we run around the Juba area.
      For people unfamiliar with the HASH, the HASH was started by British ex-pats in Asia somewhere back in the 30's or so.  It has been described as "a drinking club with a running problem," and now spans the globe.  I was aware of their being a HASH in Juba but I resisted for nearly two years because I thought it was merely a drunken brawl.  My evidence for this possibility was the regular extremely hung-over condition of two friends, one a faithful HASHer, whom I would see at church early on Sunday mornings.  However, another very dear friend who arrived in Juba and participated in the HASH assured me that my fears were misplaced; the extreme inebriation of my friends was the result of post-HASH consumption rather than at the HASH.
      I started participating in the HASH around February of 2012 and have not looked back at all.  The hour or two I spend there each week is often the highlight of my week, such is the state of my social life in Juba.  But it really is a great way to meet people, to unwind and have some fun.
      A few weeks ago we ran just outside Juba at an area near Gormoruk Cemetary.  This is a really nice area, with some old volcanic hills which afford great views of the surrounding country.  Juba is surrounded by classical African savanna grasslands which you don't really appreciate at ground level, you have to get up a few meters and take in a grand vista to see the beauty.
      Here are some photos from that HASH:

Out on the trail.  On-on!

This was a small pool, outcrops of granite and basalt made a natural dam.  Anyone for a dip?

After the run, the challenge was to haul the "beverages" up on the rocks

Everyone post run enjoying drinks, songs and fellowship

The view from the mountain with yours truly showing his good side.  Hard to tell where the socks end and the white legs begin.  Nice hole in the shirt, d'oh!

A friend enjoying the view from the mountain

New Job

     I came to Sudan almost three years ago  now.  I originally only came for a four month project.  I sometimes don't know what has happened to the time.  But four months has stretched into three years, and now I have a new job and don't know when I will return to live stateside.
     I was a missionary working for the Episcopal Church of the Sudan.  I came just to help study the Church's finances and help to create some systems.  Not really your typical missionary posting.  Actually, keeping the line between overworked employee and missionary was very difficult.  I often found myself more caught up in the work than on building relationships or some of the other soft, fuzzy things people thought I was supposed to be doing.  It was hard to remember that when you are responsible for managing the finances of a three million member organization and there are huge pressures.  Vendors looking for their money or bishops howling for their stipends never asked whether or not I was a missionary, they just wanted their money.  It was a tough job, the conditions were hard.  Except for people who saw me in action here, it would be hard I think for people at home to ever really understand.  But I also always felt that I was where God wanted me, where I was supposed to be.  I never felt discouraged or that I made a mistake being at the ECS, not for one day no matter how bad it got.
     I left the ECS in March.  It seemed to me the right thing to do.  I felt like I could have stayed there for thirty more years and have still been doing the same thing.  I felt that so long as I remained with the Church they would not really grow, nor would I.  We would both be dependent upon each other - the ECS to avoid having to do on their own the things I had so often taught them, me hiding from challenging myself to learn new things, push myself.  I was getting stale and lazy.  It was time to go.  I miss the ECS, I miss the community, the emphasis upon living a life of faith.  And though I knew I was done working for the ECS, I did not feel that I was done with Sudan.
      The thing about South Sudan is that as a new country, it's future, it's direction has not been fully decided.  This country has all the assets to be one of the wealthiest, most wonderful countries.  It's that possibility that makes living here so enticing.  South Sudan has the history of 192 other countries to learn from to avoid making similar mistakes.  The future here could either be great or terrible - it hasn't been decided.  I think that like teenagers to whom no amount of advice really penetrates - they just have to experience things for themselves in order to learn, maybe the same is true for countries and they just have to go through bad times in order to learn and grow and emerge hopefully better.  But it is that uncertainty that makes it so exciting to live here.
      So I have traded a seven days a week, seventy hours of work position for a seven days a week, seventy hours of work position!  which is great because I left behind when I came Africa a seven days a week, seventy hours of work position.  At least now I am able to get a paycheck every two weeks, and my house and office has reasonable electricity - even air conditioning and hot water!  That's not just crazy talk! 
     I don't want to go into too many details, but I am now Director of Finance & Administration for a non-governmental organization (NGO) called IMA Worldhealth.  We support the development of primary health care by supporting health clinics and hospitals by giving them training, equipment, medicines, whatever we can do to help them to develop.  My job is to make sure we have all the resources we need to do the job and to account for how those resources were used.  I spend my days and nights worrying about wire transfers and receipts and audits and exchange rates, etc. etc.  I worry about everything, which suits my nature - I like to be involved with everything, I like to be in charge.  My ex-wife always said I was bossy.  I just like to think that if I'm not in charge, nothing gets done.
      I don't know what this is doing to my sense of identification.  People bring over magazines and newspapers from the US and I hardly recognize the country I left behind.  I feel alien from there.  But I will also always be an outsider here, though I am making a commitment to Africa which is the most astounding thing I could never have imagined.  This experience has exposed me to people I would never have met otherwise.  I have friends on four continents now.  I went to England for Christmas last year to be with friends.  This Christmas I am thinking of going to India and Sri Lanka to see friends.  I'll be going home in June to see family in America.  It's a whirlwind, and it's hard sometimes to know where it's heading.

Nimule Road

   Not long after I arrived in South Sudan in May 2010 I had the opportunity to visit the ECS farm in Panyikwara in Eastern Equitoria.  I went with a fellow American missonary named Robin whose assignment was helping the ECS to develop an agriculture program.  The farm in Panyikwara had been given by the community to serve as place where people could be educated in farming techniques.
   The drive to Panyikwara was miserable.  This was my first long distance trip in Sudan and I could not believe how bad the roads were.  It took us about four to five hours to drive a little more than 100-kilometers, barely an hour's drive in the US.  And like all drives here your body feels beaten by the time you reach your destination.  Last week we drove to Lainya and back in the same day, three hours each way of spine cracking, bone crushing, kidney bruising travel.  When you reach home you feel like you have been beaten by baseball bats.
    To reach Panyikwara we drove south on the main road towards Uganda.  This is the major means by which people and goods reach Sudan from Kenya and Uganda.  Because of its importance to transport USAID invested around $250-million dollars to upgrade the road all the way from Juba to the border with Uganda, about 185-kilometers.  For any American reading this, please know that these were tax-dollars extremely well spent!  Improving this road was a wonderful investment.
    I took a lot of pictures on that trip in 2010, when everything was still so new to me.  Even goats lounging in the road seemed at the time fascinating, whereas now I barely give them a second glance.  Last week I again traveled to Eastern Equitoria.  I went to Magwi which is near Panyikwara to attend the Synod of Torit Diocese.  I was there to conduct a financial management training such as I have done all over Sudan.  This time we drove down the now improved road and what an wonderful sensation it was!!  From the time we left Juba to the time we arrived in Magwi was barely two-hours, and I was not really pushing the drive - we could have made it more quickly.  Instead, I was luxuriating in the smoothness and comfort of the drive down a road anyone in a developed country would appreciate.  What a great improvement!!

A view of the old Nimule Road, travel was so slow goats could use it as a resting spot without worry.

 

Old Nimule Road.  Rain-water would collect and make travel a muddy mess.

 

 

New Nimule Road!!  As good a road as anywhere.  Speed limit 80-Kph!!

New Nimule Road.  Now you can appreciate the views of mountains, etc., because you don't have to be so incredibly focused looking for potholes and ditches to avoid.

New Nimule Road.  Money well spent.

 



Water Woes

     For most of the time I have been here the water we received in our house came from a well located on an adjacent property.  There really is not a central water system in Juba - and certainly not any kind of sewer system - people have big black plastic water storage tanks elevated on platforms or roofs, the water coming either from bore wells or delivered by tanker truck.  There are seemingly hundreds of tanker trucks operating in Juba, and like so many of the services offered in Juba, water delivery is the purvue of mainly Ethiopian or Eritrean drivers.  It is interesting how certain nationalities specialize in particular businesses.  All of the petrol stations in town are operated by Somalis, who also operate many of the money exchange bureaus.  Arabs operate so many of the general shops, several of the bigger hardware stores in town are run by Indians.  And it's also interesting how similar shops tend to congregate together; you will have in one block a half-dozen building supply traders or plumbing and electrical shops all huddled together.  There is a certain logic to this.  It makes comparison shopping easier, you can quickly go from shop to shop to compare wares and prices.  And also, since there is a certain comraderie amongst the traders, if one is out of stock of something they will obtain it from a competitor.  The other day I was doing my general household shopping and wanted a couple of packages of spaghetti.  My regular shopkeeper was out but he ran around the market until he found some for me.  Did it cost me an extra pound per package? yeah, but it spared me having to search around and ensured my continued patronage, so that quarter a package was worth it.
    The well which supplied our house was on the adjacent compound of an NGO.  This NGO used to rent some space from our Guest House where they housed their staff which is why they provided the water.  Our house and one other - where their staff lived - were both supplied by this particular well.  The other two houses in the Guest House compound are supplied by a different well.  The NGO moved their staff out of our compound in December 2010 and I have always been amazed - and thankful - that they continued to provide our houses with water.
     Evidently the NGO either was unaware they were still supplying us water or finally decided to end it because starting in January I noticed our household water was being supplied by tanker trucks.  The tanker trucks in Juba derive their water from one of two sources: one are USAID operated water treatment plants which draw water from the Nile River, treat it and filter it, and then sell it cheaply to tanker truck operators who then sell it to households and businesses.  The other source is when the tanker trucks just go to the banks of the murky Nile and pump water directly into their holds.  In theory these operators are supposed to throw some chemicals into the trucks to treat the water, but everyone in town suspects they do not.  This water is priced somewhat lower and appeals to those householders or businesses wishing to save a few pounds.  The Guest House operators are decidedly in the latter category since I have noticed since January how dirty and nasty our water has become.  I had also noticed how starting in January my stomach suddenly became distressed like I was suffering from some kind of internal bug.  At first this didn't make sense since I am generally careful but once I saw the poor quality of our water the source of my distress became obvious.
    We're still suffering from the crummy water.  It's just such a shame after two-and-a-half years of decent water to now suddenly being afflicted this way and having to waste money buying bottled water all the time for everything.  Below is a picture of the water that was delivered to our tank this morning.  Yum.

Manna from Nebraska

Recently some people came over to South Sudan from Nebraska.  They asked if they could bring something for me from there.  I think I made excellent choices.

Killing time in line

     I had to make two deposits at the bank this morning.  One deposit for our WFP account, which allows us to use UNHAS flight services, was at KCB Bank, while the other was depositing employee payrolls into an account at Equity Bank. 
     I dread going to the bank here, the lines are always awful, even early in the morning, the only time they are bearable.  No one appreciates the concept of customer service.
     I only had to wait an hour at KCB, pretty amazing.  I arrived just after 8:30am and was out around 9:30am.  I used local transport to the bank and had to walk a kilometer to another major road to take another matatu to the other bank.  I suppose I reached Equity around 9:45am.  The line was lengthy.  I finally got to the window around 11:30am and made the deposit.  Fortunately, I had one of my Adrian Mole books with me ("The Wilderness Years") which I actually finished not long before it was my turn.  If you are not familiar with the Mole, you are missing out.
     Three hours thrown away standing in line at the bank on a Saturday morning.  Ugh!  People back home don't appreciate how lucky they have it.

 

Muddy blues

      I recently drove from Juba to Maridi in Western Equitoria.  The distance is 185-miles.  It took us nine-hours to get there and about the same to return, maybe 9.5 coming back.  I drove one of our Toyota Landcruiser hardtop cars.  These are great cars for the bush roads, really sturdy and decent riding.  I've covered most of the same idistance in a Honda CRV wagon and a Toyota Hi-Ace van both of which were awful rides, the van - or matatu in the local language - being particularly bad.
     At a spot about 20-km east of Lui (pronounced "Louie") there were two muddy spots in the road which had swallowed vehicles.  In the first an entire tractor-trailer was abandoned buried in the mud while everyone else drove up to 100-meters or more off in the grass on the sides to get around the area.  In the second two trucks were buried about 8-feet down in the mud blocking the road.  Here because of trees and wet-conditions it wasn't really possible to drive around, though going we did manage to scoot around in the grass on one side.  On the way back the sides were so chewed-up we had to wait for the truck that was blocking the road to be pulled-out by this big steel cable before we could get by.  We only lost about a half-hour going and maybe an hour heading back.  Others in our party lost up to 3 hours waiting to get by this same area, so we counted ourselves lucky.  One thing in Africa, people just don't stop moving no matter the obstruction.  I'm always amazed at construction sites how people routinely just go around barricades and over impossible looking pathways, they just don't stop for anything.

This is the general view looking east. Ahead is where two trucks were blocking the road.  We scooted around on the left side.  Many people had been waiting for hours to get by.

 

 

A view of the two trucks blocking the way.

 

 

Another view of the blockage.  The guy was one of many young men that appeared from who knows where to move the vehicles out of the way.  While returning Sunday morning we reached this spot just after 7am there were already a couple of crates of Nile Special beer lying about and many empty bottles which I did not think bode well for our making progress but we did get by fairly quickly.

 

 

This truck was about 8-feet down in the mud.  I cannot believe they actually thought they were going to drive through this mess.

 

 

The other truck that was blocking the road.

 

Some people tried driving around on the south side but it quickly became a muddy mess.

 

Looking west at the que of trucks and cars waiting to get through

Looking east.  Our car is back there there somewhere.

 

 



 

The car I was driving.  What a great car for driving in the African bush.