The New House

What a difference a year makes...

My new house:

My new bedroom:

My new bathroom:

The garden:

Am I really still in Juba?

my shoes

It is a sad day. My favorite pair of shoes have finally worn out and no amount of glue or duct tape could come to the rescue.

I shouldn't be so sentimental, but I purchased these shoes about 8 years ago and they've been a staple on all of my Africa trips. They have slogged through the muds of the forest region of Guinea during the rainy season; they have kept my feet cool on the hot sands of Timbuktu, Mali; they have met the pygmy king of western Uganda; they've been with me on safari in Kenya and South Africa; they have protected my feet from the mines of southern Sudan (ok, that one is a stretch!) and even kept me balanced on the rough cobble stones of Boston.

And now, they are lying in a trash heap in Wau, S. Sudan, because it wasn't worth bringing them back from their last trip.

The worst thing about it...only one of the shoes was ruined!

RIP.

Malakal

In June, sometime between the bout of malaria and the vacation to Jordan, I took a trip to visit our project office in Malakal. Malakal is in Upper Nile State and is along the disputed north/south border of Sudan (northern Sudan vs. southern Sudan). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malakal

I'd never been to Malakal before so this was an exciting trip. There you never know what will get you first: glue-like mud, killer crickets, or stray gun fire from unexpected violence. Fortunately we made it through the trip with just the crickets.

In Malakal we visited a number of schools where our project is giving partial scholarships to orphaned girls and boys. Here is a staff member from the central ministry of education speaking with students from one of the schools we sponsor.

Here is one scholar we're sponsoring. Check out the scarification on this Nuer boy's forehead.

Here is a photo of one section of a once-famous teacher training institute. Many great Sudanese teachers were trained here before the second civil war. At it's peak, it turned out 1000 teachers a year. Now it is grazing land for goats and squatters homes.

Here is another view of the training center.

Our project is supposed to support this institution, but we can't because it isn't operating due to a lack of resources for the boarding facilities (food, water, power). The government should be paying for these things but there is no political will do do so. There's a lot of work to do here!

Apparently mayo is more dangerous than water?

I am now back in Juba after a refreshing 6 weeks away - vacation and then working from Kenya during the Sudanese elections. Before returning to Juba earlier this week I made the usual pilgrimage to Nakumat (the Target of Kenya) to purchase all the food items you just can't get in Juba. Besides cheese (oh, how I love cheese) I brought good jam, pancake mix, maple syrup, healthy cereal, and a few other things. I also had with me a jar of mayonnaise and a jar of dijon mustard, the both of which brought to me by a loving sister via our vacation rendez-vous in London. As usual my check in bag was outrageously heavy, and filled to capacity, so, with a brief thought of "I wonder if mayo qualifies as a liquid?" I tossed the 2 jars into my handbag and headed to the airport.

Now, anyone who has traveled through the Nairobi airport can attest to its lax security for regional flights. And anyone traveling from Nairobi to Juba can attest that the airport staff really could care even less about travelers to Juba. We're shuffled off to the furthest gate, located at the end of lengthy hallway, down some back staircase, and through another maze of hallways. It is at this gate that hand baggage is checked for liquids, and I have typically obediently downed all my water to get through the security check point. Of course, once or twice I have NOT finished off my water, and it made it onto the plane as well.

This time through, I met with an extremely "careful" security person who, upon seeing the mayo and mustard, gave me all sorts of trouble about my "liquids." Having worked in Africa for some time now, I'm rather adept at talking my way through situations like these, and I was intent on getting that mayo into Juba no matter what I had to say/do. I showed her the list of non approved liquids, rationalizing that mayo is not really in liquid form and not really a cream, it is basically solid. She wasn't having any of that and sent me back to the airline security officer who shrugged it off, not really caring what I brought on the flight. He tagged my bag and sent me through security again, saying to tell the officer it was ok with the airline. Back and forth several times between the two, the one man wanting to help me get my food through (obviously he knows about the food in Juba) and the woman officer obsessed with not letting my liquids on.

In the end, I walked through security with the airline staff who created a diversion and I just walked away with my mayo. And all the while I had a half drunk bottle of water IN MY HAND which was never questioned. Apparently mayo is more dangerous than water!