Saturday, August 16, 2008

The Pain of Leaving

I am so tired. I don’t know how many days have past since we have left Africa. We left the Safari abruptly, out of the Carnivore restaurant in Nairobi, to the airport to catch our flight for the States. This was three days ago? Tuesday night? With this time difference, I am also supposed to gain a day of my life back. So two days ago? I don’t know how to judge the time that has passed by already. I have so much to catch up on here in the U.S. I have to check all my emails from the last week, load all my documents and pictures onto this computer, schedule my doctor appointments, and start preparing for my move to Berkeley. But my luggage is still on the floor besides me, unpacked. My mind is everywhere right now. I want to visit my friends, but I need to run some errands while I am still in Cerritos. I want to update my blog, but I have to start packing for school. I want to send out emails, but I have to organize my belongings first.

But it isn’t the amount of work I have left to do that is distressing me. It is this searing nostalgia. In those moments I sat awake, unable to sleep during my 20-hour flight from Nairobi, my mind would slowly reel back to my time in Africa and to the people I missed so intensely—Jerome, Bishop, Father Vuni, Father Amayo, Father Mawa, Abby, Mark, Father Ben, Father Hector, Sister Florence and Helen, Joseph, Moses…and heck even Emmanuel. And when I tried to write in my journal to keep myself occupied, summoning up memories from the past few weeks in Africa only worsened the pain. On top of that, I could not stop my head from replaying John Mayer songs over and over again…songs that I listened to so much on Emma’s iPod in Sudan and songs that I now associate only with Africa. My mind was elsewhere, but my body was on this plane. And I hated it. I was not ready to leave. I did not want to leave. If it weren’t for my school and my family, I would have stayed longer…maybe for a few more years. Maybe to finish off what I came there for. Maybe for the RFP. Maybe for the 3700 nets I got for Moses to distribute. Maybe to see all of Eastern Equatoria covered with mosquito nets by the next rainy season…and to have all-case child mortality reduce by 17% through our efforts, ideally.

But I wanted to see more than that. I wanted to be there to see our Diocese grow and build its reputation. I wanted to witness the children of Kimotong living past the age of 5 because of our 500 nets, and to see the faces of mothers who were happy to have us help them. I wanted to be there when, within the next 3 years, PSI successfully delivers nets to all of Southern Sudan. And when it does, I want to be there to witness the changes taking place as a result of their distribution. To see the burden of malaria significantly reduced, to see fewer children die annually because of it, and to see, for the first time in a long time, the government receiving recognition for this. Recognition so that the next time a crisis calls Southern Sudan, the people will trust their government to answer and protect them. That whether there be another drought, famine, or disease, their government will be there to relieve them from their suffering. That it will do what it can in its power to help them, and that it will follow John Garang’s motto to “bring the towns to the villages”.

Because the last thing I want for these people is another war. Malaria should be the least of their problems. As I said my goodbyes when leaving Torit, and I looked at Abby one last time, my eyes started to water. I tried so hard to hold it in, but I couldn’t help it. The tears just rolled out. Abby leads a tough life. As a Kenyan in Sudan, she cooks for the Diocese three times a day and earns a meager salary for her 4-year old son. There is nothing so tiring and monotonous. And I felt so sorry for her. It seemed unfair that I could just hop on a plane and leave all of these people behind, leave all our work incomplete. And I thought about her son catching malaria, like one of those children I see in the statistics of my spreadsheet, and I thought about how malaria could affect the children of the people whom I have grown to love for the past two months...

They did not deserve it. They did not deserve to suffer such an easy, preventable disease that people in the U.S. never have to encounter. They have so many other problems to think about and malaria should be the least of their concerns. It was heartbreaking to know that I was supposed to help them rid this wretched disease, but did not. Yet malaria is just one of those things that can be stopped. The reason why Ed made us work on malaria in the first place is because it is a disease that does not discriminate; everyone does not fear talking about it. If we can help the government rid this problem, then the people will feel that their country is doing something for them. I want the people to trust their government. I want them to give credit to their government for these efforts, to the same government that shed blood for them during the war so that they could live in peace. Because when the referendum comes up in 2011, the time for these people to vote for independence or not, I pray by that time the people of Southern Sudan will have enough confidence in their country to vote for independence. That their country will prosper if they do break away from Khartoum. And I pray that there will be no war. No violence, no cattle raiding, no shootings. And that nothing happens to the people I love so much over there.

I want to come back to Sudan. I will be following it closely on the news. Not Darfur, but Southern Sudan. I will keep in touch, and I will never forget this summer. I have learned so much about East Africa, about public health, about the frustrations of trying to get work done in country that needs help desperately. And although there was a period of time when I had lost my faith in public health, dealing with the bureaucracy of international NGOs and governmental organizations, when I wanted to change my career path and pursue medicine just so I could see direct results, even if it meant going against my motto, “It is better to prevent than to cure”, I think I am going to stick with public health. Crying with Abby toughened my resolve, ironically.

This isn't to say that I am going to completely dismiss a potential career in medicine, much to the happiness of my parents. It is personally satisfying to know that when a person comes up to you asking for help, you can give it to them directly. And that is needed in Africa, in India, in the U.S., in anywhere else around the world. So even if it is super competitive, I may just try for a joint M.D. /MPH degree.

But this will be in about two years. Hopefully by then this pain of leaving Africa behind will dissolve. To be honest, I don’t think I would have ever been ready to leave. It took something like school to uproot me from my life in Sudan. I miss the greenery, the fruits, the simplicity of life. But most of all, I miss the people. The Sudanese have suffered so much, but their courage and willingness to abide by their principles despite what they have gone through is truly remarkable…and unlike anything I have ever seen before. But I promise to come back when I have the money…to Uganda, to see Jerome, to Sudan, to see Father Vuni, to stay with the Bishop in Kuron Peace Village. No one in the U.S. will understand the mark that Sudan has branded into my heart, as evidenced by the first fight I had with my mother in the car about my desire to go back. I was so heated, I did not even realize the paved roads and the modernity of life surrounding the 105 freeway.

I still have to get approval from my parents to come back, but until then, I thank the Sudanese for all they have done for me. For their hospitality, for bearing my ignorance about Africa before coming there, for restoring my faith in humanity, and for showing me the great lengths that courage and integrity can carry someone. These people have been an inspiration to my life, and I will never forget them. I miss them dearly. I miss them so much it hurts sometimes.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Last Week

I have not had the chance to update about my last week in Sudan because Ed finally arrived. It was crunch time, so that meant work, work, work. No time to fool around. Occasionally there was some fun, but this week was mainly just the three of us cooped up in our rooms, working on whatever it was that we needed to do.

Reading back on this entry, it seems very disconnected. But I guess that is just me as a science person…I write technically and impersonally, and sometimes, I admit, it doesn’t make sense. But bear with me.

Friday, July 25, 2008
Today we just relaxed. I tried catching up with my blogging, while Emma, Jerome, and George walked to the local bar. At dinner, I met a man who recognized me from the DDR conference. I also met Sister Paula, who is a very lively and fun woman from Italy. She gets a kick out of killing mosquitoes with her bare hands. There was another woman who was talking about gender as a social construction. Women in Sudan do a lot more backbreaking work than the men do. According to Father Vuni, the men only have their spear and axe.

Father Vuni told us this sad story about a village by the eastern side of the upper Blue Nile, which he visited in ’93. The villagers drank and bathed in the same pool of water their animals used. Because it was dirty and infested with parasites, the church wanted to drill boreholes for the village so that the people could access fresh water. But the government refused during this time of war. They did not want the people to associate the gift of the borehole with the church. So the government was basically killing the people of the village by forbidding them to access clean water. They also forbade the people to grow grain, and restricted them to a small plot of land for okra. When Father Vuni visited and told the villagers that Southern Sudan was in a mess from the war, they were so shocked to hear that there were people standing up and fighting against the Arabs—a group they had always believed to be invincible. I don’t know why this story hurt me so much when he told it (he narrated it more eloquently and expressively). I guess I could not believe how incredibly inhumane the Arabs acted back then. I wish it weren’t true, but this trip has only solidified my prejudice towards Arabs. There is no justice for what they have done to these people…even in the present.

Saturday, July 26, 2008
Father Vuni left for England today, but Father Amayo and Father Ben came back from Dubai! I was so happy to see them. George and Jerome went off to pick up Ed and Teddy from Juba, but because our Pajero was completely busted, they had to use Father Vuni’s Land Cruiser.

I finished blogging about Nimule and Kimotong, but the internet was not working. So I sat out with Father Amayo and talked to him about Nimule. Usually people cluster together and build houses close to each other for protection. But in Nimule, the houses are all spread out because it is a peaceful community. Uganda has been a major source for Southern Sudan’s resources because Uganda is politically more stable, has better infrastructure, and has a lot of foreign investment. Also, because it is difficult to get qualified Sudanese for much of the technical jobs in Sudan, many qualified Ugandans and Kenyans come to Sudan and earn a higher salary than they would in their own countries. And then he went on to talk about how this is the hungry period, and how people depend too much on the WFP. If people can receive free food from the WFP, they no longer feel the need to plant their own crops to sustain themselves. So that is why it is smarter to donate seeds rather than food to encourage people to go back to their land. I thought that was a very interesting solution.

Finally by about the evening, Teddy (George’s younger brother) and Ed arrived. George told us that the government has recently demined a landmine they found on the Juba road. Luckily it was a dud mine, but it was still a scary thought to know that we had been driving over a landmine every time we needed to go to Juba. I don’t want to know how many other dud mines there have been on the roads we have traveled on that still haven not been found. George says that the mine may have come out because of erosion. Maybe.

Anyways, they have just set up their mosquito nets and are now settled in. Now that Ed is back, I can imagine this last week will be very busy...and stressful.

Sunday, July 27, 2008
In the morning I decided to go to mass with Father Amayo. I had never gone to mass in Torit, but I went in Juba when Bishop Paride delivered the service. Since this was my last Sunday in Torit, I thought it would be a good idea to attend mass at least once here. So Father Amayo drove us to the Bishop’s compound and parked his Prado. We walked to the nearby church, which was actually just a tall, open-structured building. The people sat outside the structure, under the extended tin roof. There were hundreds of people sitting and standing around the periphery of the church. I walked with Lucy and Willie, the computer guy at the Bishop’s, and stood up behind the crowd. We were at the very edge, and I could not see past the heads of all the people in front of me. But that was fine, since all I wanted to do was hear the mass from where I was standing and draw fewer eyes towards my khawaja self.

But Father Amayo, who wanted me to see the service, called for me to come over to where he was standing on top of the stage, with all the Fathers, in front of the hundreds sitting before us. Their eyes easily followed me as I walked onto the stage, where Father Amayo placed a chair smack down next to the Fathers so that I could face the audience and CLEARLY see the mass. It was pretty intimidating to have all eyes on me, and I sat stiffly in my chair.

The mass was long. About 3 hours. Father Amayo did not speak, but another Father who spoke about how important it is to follow God. To be honest, I liked Bishop’s service more. Maybe I am biased. But part of the reason why it was so long was because there was a wedding going on at the same time. And that was why there were so many more people attending mass this day than usual. I felt completely out of place to be sharing that stage with the bride, groom, and the Fathers. The wedding was simple, with the bride and groom saying their vows and walking around from place to place. I had wanted to see a traditional wedding ever since I came to Africa, but this was the closest I was going to get.

The coolest thing about facing everyone is that I could see all the activities going on in the audience—people clapping, singing wildly, children moving up and down the isle, and the people in the front dancing, moving their colorful hips side to side and slapping their instruments together. I loved seeing it. This had always been my favorite part of church services in Sudan.

After mass, I came back to the compound and Ed and George were busy fixing the internet. I did not want to do anything on this Sunday, so Emma and I just screwed around on our computers and read a little. We didn’t do much until dinner rolled around. Ed wanted to talk about forced disarmament in Sudan with Father Amayo, particularly since he is really afraid that another war will happen because of it. I think he is right. All the violence we have heard about in Southern Sudan is over cattle; people do not fear imprisonment as much as they fear losing their cattle. Tribes like the Taposa will only shoot when people steal their cattle or toy with their women. And now that AK-47s have spread like an infectious disease and nearly all tribes carry them, there will be much violence if the government sends in the SPLA to forcefully disarm these tribes. People would rather listen to their chiefs than to their government.

Monday, July 28, 2008
Father Amayo and Father Ben have left for Nairobi. Africans are always on the move. Today is also Jerome’s birthday, which took me off guard because all along he made us believe it was on Tuesday. So I felt terrible because I had nothing to give him.

It also didn’t help that Ed started to make us busy, giving us no time to hang out and have some quality time with Jerome. He made the three of us write out a list of our accomplishments on this trip and the things we had left to do before leaving. I thought this was only going to make me feel bad about how little we have actually accomplished here, but by the end of the meeting, I was very surprised by how much we had done together. Even if a lot of our work were baby steps, we did things most people are not bold enough to do, like barge into meetings and build strong relationships with big name organizations. Our small team in the Diocese has done a lot considering the circumstances we have been through in Africa, and even if George is not satisfied, the rest of us are. As Ed says, “Everything happens slowly in Africa.”

Afterwards, we went to our respective meetings at the Ministry or SSRRC. Ed and I went to visit Dominic, the Malaria Head at the Ministry. I had not seen him in so long, and I really like the guy. He told us the terrible news that the generator has not been working for the past month in the Ministry. In fact, EPI is storing their vaccines at the local market for refrigeration. And then he made us feel bad because we never told him we distributed 500 nets at Kimotong since we were bypassing the Ministry when NGOs should be working in cooperation with the government. He is completely right. We did not want to be responsible for any duplicated efforts and for any problems that Dominic would have to handle all because we did not notify the Ministry ourselves. I am going to miss Dominic. I hope he does well, and that his face gets out there to the people so that they recognize him for all the work he has done.

Walking out of the Ministry, we ran into Joseph from Kimotong. I was so surprised to meet him in Torit. He said he stopped by for some work, but he wanted to give Emma some garnets that he promised to send over from Kimotong. A little too generous, if you ask me haha. We were supposed to go to Kimotong today to see the result of our distribution, but it was pouring rain and the roads would have been flooded there. I wanted to go though, to see this village and the women one last time. The same village that brought us the Olympic track runner, Lopez Lomong.

We came back to the compound, and the rest of the day was pretty uneventful. At night, Emma and I hung out under the trees and talked to Jerome about his life. He said he wouldn’t lie on his birthday, so I pounced on this opportunity to ask him questions about his life that I wanted him to truthfully answer. But I didn’t get a lot out of him, much to my disappointment.

Tuesday, July 29, 2008
I promised Jerome I would wear an African skirt for him on his birthday (I am pretending today is his birthday because I had believed it all along), but I was too lazy to wear it. So I opted for the pink Indian shirt that he had seen me wear before and liked so much. I promised him that one day, when I become very wealthy or at least have the money, I will buy him a new car. Not a Pajero, but a Land Cruiser maybe. I am also thinking about giving him my Razr phone with the GemTel SIM card because I am supposed to get a new phone once I got back to the States anyways. I am definitely sure that will make him happy.

George, Ed, and I went to the Ministry again and met with the Minister of Health. She expressed her concerns about the need to bring services to the people because impact can only be felt at the grassroots level. But people like to stay in Juba or the County offices, and the Ministry needs operational costs to send out their supplies and services to all the primary health care facilities. But right now, payments are mainly just for staff. But then she showed us more organograms, and afterwards we left.

We went to the Torit County local government office to get a list of chiefs for all the villages. After our distribution in Kimotong, we realized how important it would be to get the chiefs involved with the registration and distribution in each village. But the main guy wasn’t there, so we just headed back to the compound.

And then Ed gets the news that Bishop Paride was in Torit!! OMG, it had been nearly a month since the last time I saw him. I don’t know how many times I nagged Mark on the phone to get the Bishop over here. But Mark did it. The Bishop came. And the Bishop brought a whole troop of Taposa dancers because he was bringing them to perform at the Silver Jubilee in Juba. So he got them to dress up in their traditional clothing, with their goat skin skirts, beaded necklaces and bracelets, nose rings, headbands, and pink shirts (even though traditionally, they are really supposed to be bare-breasted). They smelled a bit like sour milk, and Ed told us later that it was probably from the cattle oil they slather over their skin before performing. I loved their singing and the beats in their voice. I couldn’t understand the language, but I think one of the songs was about Sudan. When the rain started pouring harder, we all huddled under the porch of our compound and the Taposa ladies continued to perform for us. They would jump, twirl, and stomp, while marching up and down the length of the porch. The Bishop would hop with them, and because I love dancing so much, I decided to join the ladies. It was fun. I was hoping that some other people would join, or at least Jerome who always promises to dance with me but never does. But, regardless, it was fun. I got to dance with the Bishop and the Taposa women.

Then Bishop moved towards the dining room and I followed him like a lost puppy. I wanted to be with him for as long as he was in Torit that day. Ed, George, Bishop, and the two Sisters, Sister Santa and Sister Sarah, sat together and talked. Ed stole this opportunity to talk about disarmament with the Bishop. Apparently, this force disarmament situation was still troubling his mind. Bishop explained to us that the government and the soldiers gave these guns to the people in exchange for their cattle whenever they were starving during the war. And so asking the people to give back the guns without compensation, either in the form of cattle or money, was stealing. And asking for the guns back without offering protection from nearby tribes or Kenyans (like the Turkana tribe that is stealing cattle from the Taposa) that have yet to be disarmed was also a mistake. Another option the government can consider is registering the guns.

After our talk, Bishop and his troop had to leave. But he promised to come back before we left Torit, so I was happy. Once they left, Jerome took Emma, Teddy, and me to the market so that we could get the rest of our cloth made into skirts. But once we got there, Jerome had no idea where to take us. He led us through narrow, muddy alleys, trying to find a good tailor, but was unsuccessful. So instead, he led us into a bar where he could get a beer. We watched horrible African music videos (the dancing was lame), but Jerome enjoyed them. All this time we were waiting for the mechanic to finish up on our car. Once that was done, we left and I started compiling research on our ANC distribution for the proposal. Then at night, Emma, Jerome, and I treated ourselves to a movie in Jerome’s tent. We watched Miami Vice, which was ok. The soundtrack is good. But we were nearly sleeping by the end of the movie, no one paid attention to it anyways. So we just left the tent and went to bed.

Wednesday, July 30, 2008
I continued researching on ANC clinics, but during my small breaks in the afternoon, I would sneak away to where Teddy and Jerome were working furiously on the car. The Pajero was in much better shape than ever, and it was capable of driving again. The engine still made some funny noises, so it was not entirely ready to run.

Today was a holiday—John Garang’s death day anniversary. I guess the Sudanese celebrate their heroes’ deaths rather than their birthdays. I can’t believe it has only been 3 years since he has died. Emma arranged a dinner party with Father Andrew, Rex and his family at the Kenyatti Club (named after the nearby river) for the night, so we got ready and drove Father Vuni’s car to meet up with Rex. Jerome used to tell me this was the club where people came to dance, but I did not see any of it when we arrived. It was just an outdoor restaurant, with a TV latched to the main building so that everyone outside could see African music videos. I initially sat in the center of the table, but since I am not in love with Rex the way Emma is, and since Ed wanted to talk more about disarmament with him, I was fairly uncomfortable and managed to switch spots to sit next to Jerome at the very end of the table. Plus, they were going to share a whole platter of beef in the very middle, so I had to move. I ended up eating chapatti and onions the whole night, which was not as terrible as everyone at the table felt for me. Honestly, I expected this before coming to Sudan. It wasn’t a surprise to me that the day had finally come when I could not eat what was offered. The only thing bad about eating chapatti and onions the whole night was that my breath smelt like onions for the next couple of days. But the rest of the night was fine; I just talked to Jerome. This outing was also supposed to be a belated celebration of Jerome’s birthday, but all we could do was buy him some beers. So while Ed, Emma, and George were fawning over Rex and his inflated history, I kept Jerome company. Plus, this beat talking to the census guy who was sitting next to me originally. After he told me the census was coming out in November or December instead of October, I was so disappointed I was happy to move away from him.

We got back and Ed, George, and I continued to do some work. But then at some point I had to escape to where Emma was and get some sleep.

Thursday, July 31, 2008
In the morning, Emma and I decide to go to the market again on our last attempt to find a good tailor in Torit. This time we bring Abby because we realize we can’t trust Jerome to find one. Of course, Abby succeeds. Her friend Ken does tailoring, and we give him our measurements and cloth. He said he would make skirts for us at 10 pounds a piece, which is ridiculously cheap. Abby told us he usually charges 50 pounds or more for a skirt, and she thought that since we were khawajas, he would charge us even more. But that was no the case at all, so we were definitely surprised…and thankful.

Today was really hot, and I stupidly wore jeans in the morning. Because Jerome and Emma have been wanting me to wear the African skirts we got made in Nimule for the longest time and because on this particularly hot day it seemed like a good idea, I wore one. And although it made Jerome very happy, I felt pretty uncomfortable. I wasn’t used to wearing skirts, but I guess it just takes time to get used to it. The rest of the day was pretty much the same. I just kept researching, but now Ed was pressuring me to start drafting something. So to lessen the stress I was feeling, I just took more frequent breaks by the car and watched Teddy and Jerome work on our dear Pajero.

Friday, August 1, 2008
So I start writing my draft of the ANC proposal after all the research I had done. I was so into it, I hardly took any breaks. I finally got up when I heard Joseph, Moses, and our health tech guy, Jack, drive into our compound. I ran outside and greeted them. They were supposed to arrive a long time ago and help us with our project, but they claimed they were delayed because they had other proposals to do. Whatever. At least they had come. But I was disappointed that Emmanuel had not come with them since he promised me in Isoke he would see us before we left this week. But I should know by now that I should never think much of his promises. So I talked to our health team for awhile, and then went off to see what Emma, Jerome, and Iga (Father Vuni’s driver) were doing. They were out by the trees and Emma really wanted to watch a movie, but Jerome refused. Eventually they did, but I continued doing some more work.

Saturday, August 2, 2008
I finally finish writing my draft of the ANC proposal, but I am disappointed because Ed does not read it immediately. He is more interested in the email he gets from Miranda Bryant saying that the 3700 nets I applied for from PSI have finally arrived in Juba. I come out of my work to hear him screaming in joy that the 3700 nets have come. Seriously, the loudest I have ever heard him yell. I should have been more ecstatic about this accomplishment, considering that I had been waiting for a whole month on this notice from PSI. Back in June, our meeting with Miranda at PSI told us that they had nets available from Round 2 Global Fund for any NGO that wanted to apply for them and distribute during this rainy season. She said that she could give at most 5,000 out of the 22,000 nets they had available to one NGO, so I applied for the whole 5,000. These were few of the same nets that were stuck in Mombasa because of UNDP mishaps, and they finally got it out. So I applied for them under CDoT’s name, saying that we were planning to distribute this small number of nets to all our ANC and in-patient facilities. I got a response from Miranda a week later telling me that we got accepted for 3700 nets, which was still good. But because they were still backed up by UNDP and PSF, we did not know when they were coming.

Now after a month of keeping quiet about these nets, I can finally say they have arrived in Juba, en route to Yei. I should have been happier; besides distributing 500 nets to Kimotong, this was our biggest accomplishment yet. But talking to Ed made me realize how much more I had to do now in the few days I had left remaining here in Sudan. I needed to talk to Moses, our CDoT Preventative Health Coordinator, about information regarding our catchment population at each of our health facilities, about quarterly supervision, and about working with the Ministry in giving a few hundred nets to their own government hospital in Torit. In addition, we were already so far into the rainy season, that we had to figure out a distribution plan quickly. Ed was giving me these numbers to calculate in my head, but he was getting so exasperated when I couldn’t figure out what he was saying that I had to leave him alone for awhile. His stress affects everyone else in the room, so I moved outside to where Emma was sitting.

I instead started to finalize the spreadsheet I had been working on for months. I incorporated a Kenyan study, which showed that bed nets reduce childhood mortality by 17%, which is double what we were shooting for. And to cool off even more, I hung out with Jerome by his tent so that I could get away from work.

Then I hear the escalating noise of a car driving into the compound, and when I saw its familiar rainbow peace flag waving above it, I instantly knew who it was—the Bishop! Dude, he couldn’t have come at a more perfect time to lift my mood. He totally succeeded in getting my mind off these nets. He also brought the whole troop of Taposa dancers again, and some goats for us to kill for the night’s dinner. Bishop, though, does not eat meat or drink. I found this out during dinner. The goats were actually for everyone else, mainly for the Taposa. Man, Bishop really is my idol. Can you believe his parents were Muslim? When I took a Fanta soda instead of beer, he told me what FANTA stood for: Foolish Africans Never Take Alcohol. It was pretty funny, and I laughed with him.

Over dinner, Ed wanted to talk to Bishop about net distribution. Disarmament was no longer on his mind, but the 3700 nets were. Bishop told us that when they did mass distribution for radios, it was really chaotic. There would be multiple names for the same person, so oftentimes one person will get 5-10 radios. Also, some chiefs are dishonest and will put more names down during the registration than there actually are in the village, so that is why it is good to have more than one chief located at a distribution site so that they can check on each other and make sure none of them have been lying. Even though I wanted to stay with the Bishop, I wanted to get away from this conversation about nets. So I left the dinner table and went to check what Jerome, Emma, Iga, Mark, and the rest of the Taposa people were doing. It was pouring rain outside, and there were huge puddles about a foot deep into the ground. Jerome and Iga were having a time ordering Emma around to do stuff for the Taposa and the gatekeeper, when it really should have been Lucy’s job. The Taposa wanted more than just goat and ugali; they wanted beans and greens and sauce. I couldn’t blame them, but there wasn’t enough of it for all of them. I sat out by the kitchen and talked with Jerome, Mark, Grace, and Mary (the Bishop’s nieces). I met Abby’s fiancĂ©, Phillip (I think that was the name). Everyone was still active and talking by the time the generator turned off, but the pitch darkness finally forced all of us to retire and leave for bed.

Sunday, August 3, 2008
I woke up at about 7 AM because all the Taposa people were up and I could hear them making noise outside by the car. I thought one of them gestured to me to bring them water in the jar she was holding, but when I led her to the borehole, she waved her arms wildly and made the motion of throwing her jar down. I had no idea what she wanted, but it was obviously not water. Then she gestured as if to say “Forget about it”, and I walked her back to the car. That was a failed attempt on my part.

Emma was already up and by the kitchen because she wanted to make some hot tea for herself. She normally doesn’t sleep well at nights, and today she had a sore throat. We couldn’t get the gas on and the charcoal burning, and Jerome passed by telling her she was useless. I then got mad at him for being so mean to Emma yesterday, and I guess he realized how stupid he was acting because he started to act nice to her the rest of the day.

The Bishop, Mark, Sister Santa and Sister Sarah, and the Taposa were preparing to leave that morning. Bishop needed to drop the Taposa in Narus, so they needed to leave early. I say my final goodbyes to Bishop and take pictures with him.

After he left, it was back to work. Work, work, work. Today was our last full day in Torit, so we needed to get back on it. Ed arranged a meeting with our whole health team, including Moses, Joseph, and Jack. We told them about how far we have gone through our work and what we have to leave behind for them to take on. We got in a discussion about health systems strengthening (HSS) versus home based management (HMM), which I thought was pretty stupid and a waste of time (but I didn’t voice this) because obviously there should be no overlap. We thought HSS would be best in areas like Magwe County, where there are already so many health facilities and a lot of people, especially returnees, do not depend on TBAs. HMM would be best in Kapoeta East County, in a few payams because it already is too big to supervise. There the people are more dependent on their clan structure and local volunteers.

But the most important part of this meeting for me was talking to them about the 3700 nets. I felt guilty for dumping this task on them while we were ready to leave. I almost regretted even applying for the nets because it was already raining very hard and the roads were in its worst condition. Not only did we expect them to send it out soon, but they also had to supervise the net distribution every month for PSI in those hard-to-reach areas of Eastern Equatoria. They also had to look after the government facility in Torit, which may cause additional problems. In the end, Moses will have to deal with any problems that come up because of this, and I felt so sorry for him. I did not want to stretch the Diocese more than it has to, especially when we applied for these nets without first consulting the health team. But Emma pointed out that if they could not handle this small number of nets, how can we depend on them to handle 500,000 if we win the grant from Global Fund Round 7? That was a good point, and it made me feel slightly better.

When Ed and I calculated how long this stock of nets would last for distribution, we figured about 7 months. But then Joseph pointed out that when they distributed nets in Kapoeta hospital, attendance tripled. They delivered 3000 nets in 3 months, which is crazy. But they also gave some to mothers who already had children under the age of 5. The free distribution of nets really does work for behavior change communication, especially in ANC clinics. So this stock of nets might last for a fewer number of months than we had originally thought.

So the meeting was long, partly because I ended up talking the most for my part. I really wanted to hound it in that they gotta look after these nets for me. I wanted them to have all the information necessary to make this run as smoothly as possible for them, partly because I felt partially at fault for burdening them with this job. But then Joseph assured me that they are willing to train and supervise all of Eastern Equatoria because the Diocese works for everyone, not just for its own people. This made me appreciate them even more. I ran outside to where Jerome and Emma were. They were waiting patiently for me because we needed to pick up our skirts at the market, but when we got there, Ken was still not yet done. Also the car fixing took a good hour. Ken told us he would drop by our skirts at the compound when we were at dinner, so we left after the mechanic was done with our car.

I started on another task, which was sorting out all the files into folders we have created in the past two months. So the rest of the night I spent organizing all our documents into a public reference folder and a private CDoT folder that we would leave behind for our health team. This would contain all the work we had done, including all our drafts, mapping, and budget info. By night I am tired. I am also more overwhelmed because Ed finally gets around to reading my ANC proposal, and he tells me that some of the information he told me to write about was wrong after reading the Round 7 proposal a little more carefully. Stuff like we won’t get paid for our refresher courses and that the ACTs were only meant to be for HMM…none for ANC clinics. So that annoyed me because this information took off a chunk of my draft. Somehow we have to get MDTF to fund our ACTs in this round, because the few ones available are coming from Round 2, none of which went to Eastern Equatoria State.

I finish quickly because I can’t think about work anymore. This was my last full day, and I wanted to spend time with the people I will no longer see again. I went with Jerome, Iga, and Emma to drop off Ken at the market. Lucy came along but she was delaying, as usual. I actually got mad at Jerome for bringing her along, since all she wanted to do was buy some wine for herself. So we took about 40 minutes dropping off Ken at the market, and I was evidently in a bad mood. Ed told us to come back quickly, and I really did not want Jerome and Iga to get in trouble. And although Ed did not say anything when we got back, I knew that he was thinking we were being irresponsible.

I joined Emma, Iga, and Jerome by the trees. We talked late into the night, way after the generator went off. A flashlight and a radio playing music kept us company. Eventually we went off to sleep, but it was nice sitting outside under the clear, night sky. I will miss the fireflies and heat lightening here.

Monday, August 4, 2008
So today was the day we were leaving. We were supposed to burn all our documents and load them onto our flashdrives to take home. I tried finding my 5 gig flashdrive that I brought along with me, but could not find it. I think I lost it, and I was pretty depressed for the first part of the morning because I realized that I could have put all my pictures in there without a problem. Now I had to burn CDs for it, which was going to take forever. Plus, the drive was pretty expensive, and I haven’t lost anything so expensive since my TI-83 back in eighth grade. But I called my mom later and she said it was fine, which made me feel better.

Because our shower drain was broken or something, and there was a pool of water stagnant in our small tub, I took a shower outside, by the tents. Man, I wish I knew about these showers before because it seriously had the nicest pressure ever. It almost rivaled Nimule. Too bad I find this out literally the day we are leaving. So I go back and finish packing everything. I cleaned up the whole room, made my bed, and tied up the mosquito net. Gosh, it looked so empty and leaving this compound became so real to me. It became even more real for me when all my documents were done and loaded, and I deleted my user account from my computer. Any trace of “Neesha Mody” was now permanently gone, as if I never touched the computer in the first place. But I did; the light oil marks on the screen and the faded red dots on the cover were there because of me. This precious computer had been mine for the past two months, and the most painful part of leaving it behind was knowing that the next person who uses it will never know the attachment I felt for it and that I was the one who left those marks behind. But at the same time, as I deleted my account, I felt relieved. A huge weight lifted off my shoulders. I no longer had any more obligations to the work here, and I could put it all behind me.

I wanted to see Dominic one last time so that he could have a copy of our reference folder that might come in handy for him at the Ministry. But he was not there, and I felt bad for leaving him without ever saying goodbye. I want him to do well. I want the Ministry to do well. I want him to do all he can to quell malaria. When I came back to the compound, I talked to Moses and Joseph for a long time. I kept apologizing to Moses for the nets, but he rubbed it off. It was fun talking to them, and I thanked them for all that they have done so far for the Diocese.

And then Moses asks me about my life. He asks me where I was born, and I tell him I was born in California. He is surprised because he still doesn’t get why I am not white, which makes me laugh. I finally reveal to him that I am Indian. As I tell him this, I realize that my whole life I had never been exposed to the African culture. While my parents were born in India, I was born in the U.S. and had grown up around East Asians (80% of my high school was Asian, and 40% in Berkeley). I had always believed that besides Asia, I would go to South America first because I had taken Spanish for 4 years in high school and lived in Southern California where it was easy to practice. But here I was in Africa, and of all places, the Sudan. Even Sister Florence was surprised that my first introduction to life in Africa was the Sudan. But I am happy I came. I am in love with the Sudan, with the greenery, with its people. As said my goodbyes to Abby, I started to cry. I had to let it all come out because it was difficult to believe that after 2 months of living here, the time had finally come for me to go. I learned so much and I only hoped for the best for these people. I wish I could just transplant everyone I have met here and bring them to the U.S. I wish I had the money to come back every year. I want to see their faces again, so badly. When Jerome came up to me, he started to tear up and I thought it was the cutest thing ever. This cool guy was shedding tears for us. In my hand I had the SIM card I promised to give him and a note telling him how much I would miss him. I still do.

My feelings lingered when we drove off in Father Vuni’s car, with our luggage behind us, out of the gates of our compound, and for Juba. Ed wanted to talk about the 3700 nets with everyone in the car, especially since Moses joined us on our trip to Juba, but at that point I really just wanted him to be quiet. I wanted to just immerse myself into my thoughts for this whole ride and slowly mend my feelings, so I rarely pitched in during this business conversation. Ed and George talked for most of the time, arguing over whether it was strategic to send out these nets out to Kuron and Nanyangachor, even though the rain was really bad and it would be impossible to send them over there at this point. George, being a little realistic and more levelheaded on this matter, believed we should distribute in those places where we can reach the fastest. But Ed, being the more principled and I guess the more virtuous one, believed we should reach the people of Kapoeta East despite the roads so that we can achieve maximum coverage and save as many people as we can for as long as the rain is pouring. I understand Ed’s concern and desire to do good even though it would be nearly impossible to get the nets up there in time, but I agreed with George. I really do not want to strain the Diocese.

And then they started to talk about how Bill Gates funds things that were previously not paid attention to, like for malaria research (which only NIH did before). He also put in $500 million to the Global Fund, which motivated other governments to put in money and now it is at $19 billion or so. And about how organizations like to send out ACTs after the rainy season so that on their indicators it looks like they never stock out, even though ACTs are desperately needed now. And since PSF is the one doing UNDP’s work and bringing our 3700 nets into the country, they started talking about how good PSF was in doing their work and how MSF (French abbreviations for Doctors without Borders) had it pretty easy because they work in areas where everything is set up and available for them, unlike what we have had to deal with in this system. But as they talked about this and everything else (I tuned out after they started talking about Arnold Schwarzenegger), my mind kept turning up images of the people I was leaving behind. I hope Jerome sneaks the Pajero away and meets us up in Juba.

We arrived in CAFOD, the place next to the Camboni House where we first got internet two months ago. We were staying there this time, and boy it was nice. Something out of the U.S. with a nice American kitchen, dishwashers, and laundry machines. Nice. The rooms were pre-fab structures, and we each had our own room. Unlike the West Nile Lodge, nothing was broken here. We then went to the Sister’s to eat. The Sister’s (Yunice Corner CafĂ©) has been doing really well; they got new furniture and lights. It was really nice. I am really going to miss their chicken and chips when we leave Sudan. Jerome called us during dinner, and we passed the phone around to talk to him. You could tell he really missed us. Ed gave him permission to come over to Juba the next day if the Pajero was good enough. I held out my hopes that he would come.

When we got back, I felt so empty alone in my room. It took me a while to sleep, but my mind was too occupied.

Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Emma was busy typing up her school research project. It was due today, but she still had two more essays to type up. I tried helping her with the religion topic by bringing up examples of the Diocese, but talking to her about the goodness of the Diocese made me cry. I couldn’t believe it. I am so weak. I am just so honored to have been part of an organization that works beyond religious boundaries and that works for everyone equally. I remember Bishop telling me a long time ago that “religion unites”, and I was so confused. But working for the Diocese has made me understand this at a level I cannot even express. It took me a while to get a hold of myself.

Moses wanted to go to the Ministry of Health to talk to the TB Director General about the medicines. We placed an order a month ago, but they still had not arrived. We then went to see the Director General of Pharmacy, Dr. Richard. We met him before, but Ed forgot. He told us that the volume and weight of medicines that goes out to each level of health facility is set, and so it depends on how many facilities a NGO owns. Also, updating a health facility to a different level takes time and we must give a notice about it since we want to update our Kapoeta PHCC into a hospital. He suspects that there are a lot of ghost facilities that are getting medicines when they shouldn’t be, so they need to update their lists. Ed pushed for an emergency reserve of medicines, and Dr. Richard understood. I know that Dr. Richard is a genuinely good guy, and he will do what he can. I trust him to do the job he wants to do.

We then went back and picked up Emma to go eat lunch at the Sister’s again (our favorite place). But guess who surprised us?? I couldn’t stop smiling when Jerome came in and walked towards our table. George and Ed knew he was coming all along, but he wanted to surprise Emma and me.

After lunch, Jerome went with Emma and Teddy back to CAFOD, and Iga dropped Ed, George, Moses, and me at Malaria Consortium for a meeting with Steve if he was there. He wasn’t, so we talked to Ben and Anthony, two people who have direct experiences with net distribution in places like Lafon, Kauto, and Magwe County. At first they used to not do pre-registration, and just distributed 2 nets/household (household=married woman). But when they started using vouchers, their distribution had become very organized. It just took longer and they had to pay their community health workers. They worked with the Carter Center and they used their population data. Then Steve walked in and we joined him in his office. He basically wanted to do a joint proposal with us, but that we should wait until the RFP comes out.

Later we went to meet with Dr. Chris Lewis, whom we met the last time we were in Juba. We wanted to introduce Moses to him. He told us really good news about the health budget for 2009, and things are running smoothly with it. The budget will also be dependent on how many health facilities there were in each state and the payroll. The best news he gave us was that the government wants to give standard incentives for people working in rural NGO health facilities, because most people like to work in the higher paying state-run health facilities, located in the towns. This really made me happy. The government is really working to get their services out to the people. I couldn’t stop smiling after that meeting, and I thought it was a great closure to all the meetings we have had here in Sudan. The only bad news he gave us was that the central government ministry wanted to reopen Normeca Hospital in Kapoeta, which is this tertiary hospital that would cost nearly $500,000/quarter to run. This doesn’t include salaries. But whatever, if it draws more doctors and health care professionals over here, then I guess it is ok. We could do referrals there.

We went back to CAFOD, and Emma tells us she is still not done with her essays. I think Jerome distracted her. So while she was trying to get that done, and while everyone else was taking a short nap, I went outside by the Pajero to see what Iga and Jerome were up to. The rain was pouring madly outside, so I hopped inside the car to talk to them. I am really going to miss this Pajero. We had so many good and bad memories: our first drive to Imilai, and then all the catastrophes that happened after. Haha. I think I am also going to miss it mainly because I associate it so much with Jerome. He told me that he went to visit his half-brother and relatives today, and that Emma and Teddy joined him. I wonder what his relatives are like.

Then Ed and Teddy came over and asked Jerome to drive us to the streets, where Teddy got $100 stolen. In the morning, Ed sent Teddy over to exchange $100 for a good rate in pounds, but the guy took his bill and never gave it back. So Ed wanted to get pictures of the man as a threat in case he was still there. We drive to the market, by a line of small umbrella stands. There are hundreds of honking cars on the street this rainy day, and Jerome parks nearby one of the stands. Teddy, Ed, Iga, and I walk over to where Teddy and Iga exchanged their money. When we walked by the tables, it seriously looked like some underground money dealership. People laid their money all out on the table and counted it up. Then Teddy and Iga pointed to the people they saw that morning, and Ed squats right in front of the table, right in front of the main guy, acting not at all stealthily, and brings his camera up to take pictures. The men stand up when they see him and come up to Ed as if to ask what the hell was going on. Suddenly there was this huge crowd around us, with people all over the market wanting to see what the raucous was all about. A group of school boys surrounding behind me kept pulling my hair, and eventually I told them to cut it out. When I turned around they asked me what tribe I was from, and I gave in. I told them I was from California. They didn’t understand. So I told them I was from the United States. They still didn’t understand. Finally I told them I was from America, and they all lit up and understood exactly what I meant. It was actually pretty funny trying to tell that to them. Meanwhile, Ed was being bombarded with people asking what was wrong, and he tells them that these guys stole his son’s money. Man, it was a scene. Somehow the men Teddy pointed out snuck away somewhere, and we could no longer find them. Eventually we walked away from the place and got back to the car, soaking wet from the rain.

When we got back, Emma was close to being done with her research essays. So we waited about 20 minutes more before we headed out for dinner at the Ethiopian restaurant we had been to the last time we were in Juba. I ordered some tomato lentil sauce (I can’t remember the name) with injera, and everyone else shared their plates. Moses could not take the spiciness. We then dropped off Jerome at his relatives, and drove back to CAFOD.

Wednesday, August 6, 2008
We had to leave Juba today, and hence, leave Sudan. I wore my second African skirt for Jerome on this last day with him because Emma always wears hers and he always complains that I never wear them (which is untrue). It was long and so comfortable for me to wear on the plane. When we finished packing, we drove off for our last meeting with Miranda Bryant. We wanted her to meet Moses since he was going to be responsible for the 3700 nets now. Unfortunately, she was not at PSI because they all went to some meeting at the Ministry. I really wanted to see PSI one last time though, and personally thank Miranda for the nets. Even if they do not commence their mass distribution next year, this amount was enough for me. It would be so cool if one day I come back and work for them, maybe.

Because Ed wanted Jerome to drop off Moses at the CRS meeting, we said our second goodbye to Jerome. I gave Moses all the luck in the world; I really hope he looks after my, the Diocese’s, and Eastern Equatoria’s 3700 nets. And I hope he applies what he learns to the next hundreds of thousands of nets that the team will receive if they write a winning proposal. If only I could be there to help him. I will be watching over him closely, even at school. I will try. Meanwhile I begged Jerome to meet us up at the airport after he dropped off Moses. So I gave him a half-hearted hug, in denial that we were leaving him yet.

Iga dropped us at the Juba Airport, but before he left, Ed had to confirm whether Iga had ever been in the LRA. He was, but he assured Ed that he escaped after 5 years. Ed was still in disbelief that Iga was in the LRA, because that meant Iga has actually killed people. It is kinda crazy to know that one of our drivers had spilt blood on his hands, but he is different now. He may get drunk and act strange sometimes, but he isn't a terrible person and he is pretty intelligent—at least with the car. We then ran into Dr. Richard. He had a solid, packaged box of vaccines next to him, and said they were coming in from WHO. Oh my gosh, it made me so happy to see them. I don’t know what vaccines they were for, but it was good to know that they were coming and that he was doing his job.

Our Visas were expired (they were only for a month), and we never bothered to go through the hassle of renewing them. So they charged us a fee for each person, and held onto our passports for awhile. As we waited to get them back at the gate, Jerome and his good friend Emmanuel (we hung out with him the last time we were in Juba) came by. Dude, I so knew he would. But for some reason, his goodbyes get worse with each time. He said he didn’t want to stay with us and see us leave, even though I begged him in my whiny voice to stay. He patted all of us on the shoulder, laughing, and waved goodbye with Emmanuel. What a horrible goodbye, but I think he didn’t want to see us off because it would have hurt him a lot more. I don’t blame him, but at the same time I wanted to be with him as long as possible. Now that he was gone, it really felt like there was no use staying at the airport. We finally got our passports, and then boarded the plane. As we flew off, for the hour and half flight to Nairobi, we crossed the familiar Nile, the tukuls, and the green fields that I loved so much. I sat next to Emma, and we kept reminiscing. It seemed ridiculous that we were going to leave all this behind and go on a safari for a week, living the high end of life with all the other khawaja tourists who have never seen Africa for what it really is.

As Ed told me, “You have seen the real Africa. Now you are going to see tourist Africa.” Exactly. But I didn’t want to see it. If I could skip the safari and stay here for another week, I would. But time was up, and the trip had already been paid for, so I never could have backed out.

I will miss you, Sudan. I promise I will come back.

-Nous-Nous

Sunday, July 27, 2008

Kimotong

Catching up again.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008
We were supposed to leave immediately for Kimotong today to distribute 500 nets, but Jerome checked the car and noticed that our Pajero was in really bad condition. Our brakes were annihilated, and we needed fixing. So even though we got prepared early that morning, sent out our emails, contacted whoever we needed to, printed the flipcharts, and collected the nets from the Bishop’s, we needed to stay in Torit until the car got better. So George and Jerome went to the auto shop, Emma later joined them when she wanted to go to the market with Lucy, and I stayed behind to do a little reading. They did not get back until late at night, which made me worry. But they told me the car repairing took forever, and we were now ready to leave the next day.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

We left the compound at about 7:30 in the morning, but first we needed to stop by the auto shop and finish something additional with the brakes. Once we got more bread for the road and restocked on fuel from the Hass station, we left Torit at about 9:30. The ride to Kimotong is about 4 hours, but along the way we heard this loud “POP!”, and found that our tire busted. So we spent an hour changing the destroyed tire for the one we patched up in Pageri because our jack kept falling over. We were dead afraid the car would fall on Jerome’s body. Not only that, we saw that our fuel tank was leaking in three spots under the car. Oh no. Once we got the tire done, we had to set off again and pray that nothing else happened to our tires because we no longer had a spare…or to anything else with the car.

About 40 minutes away from Kimotong, a man in a pink shirt stopped us for a ride. There was a branch in front of our path that we could not pass unless someone removed it for us, so we let him in and he took away the branch. The guy sat right next to me, with an AK-47 on his lap, and I could not help staring at it the rest of the way to Kimotong. It was the closest I had ever been to a gun, so I could not take my eyes off it. We find out that he is a soldier. Last time we drove on this road, we saw herds of cattle crossing our path, but this time we saw a whole troop of walking SPLA soldiers whom the man shouted and waved to.

The instant we arrived in Kimotong, my stomach literally just plunged. Emma and I hate this place. We were terrified that the crazy man would find us again and never let us go. Fortunately this time, hundreds of children did not surround our car and prevent us from reaching where we needed to go. We met Peter Lomong (finally), and waited until he was ready to have a meeting with us. He offered us food to eat, but we politely refused, and he showed us the bags of Arabic gum around the room. The community was making a new project out of collecting Arabic gum from the sap of their trees and selling it off for a source of income. It was a good idea because this gum is an ingredient for so many things.

He took us to his office, and we told him our plans for the distribution the next day. We hoped that he would bring all the people he registered so that we could get these nets out to everyone. We then hauled the massive bundles of nets from the inside of our trunk and dropped them over to their storehouse.

We left immediately for Isoke, where we were planning to sleep for the night. But we left with the soldier, a man on the top of our roof, and two women with babies who all requested a ride to the nearest town, Camp 15. Squashed in the back seat of the car, I was so happy when they all got out. When we were getting closer to Isoke, we saw grey clouds hovering over the mountains and knew that it was going to rain. It was a pretty cool, terrifying sight. The clouds were coming together and the fog looked like it was about to swallow the mountains. Darkness was setting in from above. It was something out of a movie…like Twister. But the road was bad news. It was muddier than we ever saw it before, the water overflowed, and the ditches were deep. In one of the potholes the Pajero desperately struggled to climb out of, the water was so deep that it started to seep inside the trunk of our car. Even though the tires kept running, the car was stuck. When Jerome attempted to reverse and take the other fork around the puddle, we made it through with less difficulty.

Our car was dying. We reached Isoke and placed buckets underneath the car so we could recover the diesel we were losing. We dropped off our belongings in the Brothers compound and went to eat at the Sisters’. It was pouring rain, and it would not stop for hours. This is just what I remembered monsoon season to be like, except that it was not humid. I saw Emmanuel and his crew at dinner, and sent my condolences to Moses. Then we went back to the Brothers’, washed up, and slept because we needed to leave early for Kimotong.

Thursday, July 24, 2008
Although we woke up at 7 AM to leave, George and Jerome went off for about 2 hours to do some more work on the car. We promised Peter that we would be at Kimotong at about 9 AM, but we were already late. When we finally headed off, the tire we replaced started to make noise in the back of the car. So we stopped again to check it. The brakes on that tire were not working, and George and Jerome worked on sealing off the brake fluid going to that tire so that we did not lose any more of it. We spent about another hour, hour and half doing that. We were definitely late for this distribution. We drive off, and Jerome notices that the brakes in the car no longer work. He has to jam the whole weight of his body onto the brake pedal for it to work just a little bit, so he slows down.

We arrive in Kimotong at about 1 PM, about 4 hours late for the distribution. When we drive in, we see clusters of women and their babies sitting restlessly beneath the trees. They were all waiting for us to arrive since the morning, and we delayed them. I was very impressed at the turnout, but I felt absolutely terrible and guilty for making these poor women, who had to walk miles to get here, wait for us to show up. We had hoped that Peter Lomong had started the distribution without us, but he had not. To make matters worse, it started to rain.

So we hurry off, meet with Peter Lomong and the chiefs of the 8 bomas, and they take us to an open building that would shelter the community from the rain. The leaders are all there, and we sit next to them even though we initially refuse to take their chairs away from them. Slowly and loudly, the women and children enter the building and sit on the floor to face us. The men stand or sit around the periphery, trying to settle the women down even though their commands are stifled by the rain. Eventually Peter Lomong gets up to speak, and the crowd quiets down. He makes us introduce ourselves, and then translates for us in Boya. Then using the flip chart, George speaks about the importance of the nets and how to maintain them. We were originally supposed to educate people in small groups, but we did not want them to get more restless. Plus, this was more convenient.

Eventually it stops raining, and we get the heavy bundles of nets out the storehouse. We bring it outside to where all the women have lined up and crowded around. The brother of Lopez Lomong (the Olympic runner) reads off the list of names for women to come up and receive their nets. The chiefs who stood by us would confirm whether the name corresponded with the woman coming up to us. George, Emma, and I took turns handing out the nets, but then when they went off to get more of the nets, I took up the job of standing out in the sun and giving out the nets to the women for the rest of the time we were there. At times I would have to look up to the leaders who did not speak English because they would gesture to me about whether the woman they were calling was still there. Because we arrived late, most of the women left in the morning thinking we were not going to come. So oftentimes no one would answer or come up when we called off a name. For those who weren’t there, we created another pile of nets to give it to them the following day. It was a long, slow process, and there were about three men who came up to me begging me to hand them a net when it was not their turn. One man kept harassing me, and the police officer nearby grabbed him away from me. Some women would come up pretending to be the person whose name was called, but then the leaders would recognize the face and gesture that I not give the net to that person. I tell you, I was so happy the chiefs were there. Having them lead the process and run the distribution made me realize how effective it is to have community health workers who understand the local language and the people. I was really proud of them. In the end, we distributed 240 out of the 500 nets, and we told Peter Lomong to distribute the rest tomorrow even if we were not there.

It was the greatest thing to see women carrying the nets over their heads as we passed them on the road. Even if this RFP does not come out before we leave, I am satisfied that we have left some mark here.

In the middle of the distribution, Jerome told us to take a break and eat the chicken he cooked for us. He bought two chickens for 6 pounds total! So cheap! I never tasted a chicken so flavorful since the time we ate at the Ethiopian restaurant in Juba. Who knew Jerome, our driver, could cook so well? It was really good. By the time we finished, the leaders told us they were done with the distribution. We said our goodbyes to the chiefs who were still there, Lopez Lomong’s family, and of course, Peter Lomong. By the end of the day, I started to like Kimotong. Even the crazy guy helped us. He carried the nets from the storehouse and passed them to me.

We soon had to leave. A pregnant lady wanted a ride from us to Torit, but with the condition of our car, we did not want to be liable for any injuries that might happen to her on the road. And thank god we did not bring her. Emmanuel promised to drop off fuel for us at Camp 15 because we had a quarter of a tank left, but when we got to the town, there was no fuel. We found a Father Alfred who helped us out and gave us 2 jerry cans of fuel. Although we eventually passed Emmanuel on the road, it was too late by then. We continued driving, but literally about 15 kilometers away from Torit, our car breaks down. Of all the things we thought would give us a problem, we never thought the radiator would overheat. Our battery was also close to dying. We waited by the side of the road, waiting for the radiator to cool down. We poured water on it, but it started to spill underneath the car and we lost all our water. Using the duct tape from our med kit, we taped up the bottom of the radiator so it didn’t spill any more fluid. But we had no water left, so George used his mouth to siphon out anti-freeze liquid from one of the car tanks and direct it over the radiator. I couldn’t believe George was so willing.

When we started up the car, it ran for a good 10 kilometers. And then it stopped. We counted down the number of kilometers left on the road by tracking the GPS, but it was excruciating. With each kilometer, we held our breaths and prayed that we could make it to the next. But about 6 kilometers away from Torit, our car completely stopped. We had no more water and no airtime on our phones. So we made the decision that George and Jerome walk to town for water, while Emma and I remained locked inside the car, in the dark. We did not dare to get out of the car while they were away. They left at about 11:30 PM, and they did not come back until an hour and a half later. Emma and I dozed off in the backseat of the car, and then we jumped to the sound of loud banging on our windows…but it was just them. They walked the whole distance, but all the shops were closed, so they went to the compound and woke up Father Vuni. Father Vuni let us use his car to tow ours back to the compound. So with a rope, we tied our car bumper to his car, and his driver slowly pulled us to the compound.

It was about 1:30 AM when we reached the gate, and we were all dead tired. But literally a few meters away from the gate, the rope snaps and we stop. So George, Jerome, and Emma push the car inside the compound while I steer. But I was so tired that I kept pushing against the brakes of the car. Luckily the brakes do not work. When we got the car inside the compound, we instantly jolted out of it, took our luggage, and flopped on our beds. Our poor Pajero lasted through so much. And now it was completely gone.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Nimule

I am going to start posting day by day again. This whole week we had been in Nimule. Besides Father Vuni coming back, getting out of Torit was the 2nd best thing that had happened to us. The trip definitely revived me again.

Beware again, this is a long post.

Monday, July 14, 2008
We left for Nimule at about 10:30 AM. Nimule is a beautiful town near the border of Uganda, and we were going there to see the wildlife and to tour around the health facilities. On the way, we stopped by a small town called Moli, about an hour and half away from Nimule. When we stayed in the car for a few minutes, two men holding hands came up to our window and asked for me. When I refused, they came up to Jerome. One of them wanted to buy me for 1.5 million shillings and 10 cows. At first we thought 1.5 million pounds, but then they said Ugandan shillings, and George was less enthused. For your information, 7000 Ugandan shillings=10 Sudanese pounds. I do not know what the conversion is to U.S. dollars, but I am looking it up online and it is 1700 Ugandan shillings=1 U.S. dollar. Pretty inconsistent, but that does not surprise me anymore. Jerome told them we will come back, but I smacked him on the head and told him that they better not greet me with cows and shillings when we drive back to Torit.

We stopped by another small town called Pageri, which is about 40 minutes away from Nimule. In Pageri, we met the deacon Taban and his family. Taban is going to be ordained in August, so everyone is excited for him. His family owns a hut-like bar, where we rested and met an old woman who sang to us. We then drove off, through the fields of corn and villages, and arrived at a nice town a few miles down called Loa. Father Vuni told us about Loa; it is definitely a very pretty town. The red-bricked buildings make up most of the structures, and they create a pleasing contrast to the green around it. The first church of Southern Sudan was built in Loa (the second in Isoke). It was like the church we saw in Isoke, but I underestimated the size of this church when we entered it. It was HUGE…and beautiful. But it was very depressing to see bullet holes in the roof. One of the Fathers told us that the Arabs came in shooting the church, chopping the statues, and stealing the seats of the church so that people could not sit. It was disheartening to hear that there were people ballsy enough to do something like that to such a beautiful church.

We finally made it to Nimule about 8 hours after we left for Torit. We drove up the hills, and at their peak, we could see the whole view of the Nile River, the forest of Uganda right across from it, and Nimule right below us. It was simply gorgeous, and as we meandered down the hill, we could see more of the town. Nimule is bigger than Torit, more concentrated, and more developed than any other town we have been in so far…maybe because it is so close to the Ugandan border. Even though it is more concentrated (there are 9 primary schools for example), it does not look really look like it because all the buildings spread out over the hills. It is amazing how much Ugandan influence there is in this town, to the point where people here are more familiar with using Ugandan shillings than their own country’s pounds. All the lorries from Uganda must pass through Nimule road to get into Sudan, so we saw so many vehicles, cattle and chicken, beverages, and beautiful cloth in the markets. Emma and I gasped at the sight of cloth haha. It so hard to get items in Torit (c’mon chickens and cloth!) but everything here is simply so much more accessible. We were also surprised that there were more house structures and concrete buildings than there were tukuls. In fact, there were very few tukuls…it really looked like a town more than just a big village. So being close to Uganda has definitely given this town an advantage. Lucky Nimule. Now we understood why Ed always calls all the Fathers who come from this area as part of the Madi Mafia.

As we drove on the main road, we saw hundreds of people around a football field watching a match between two primary schools. It was so cool seeing the huge turnout for that school soccer game; people in the U.S. get that much attendance for a school soccer match over the span of an entire year. When we entered the Diocese compound, we saw the Fathers we met in Torit. But we also saw 5 white girls who were all about our age and were from the U.S. It was definitely strange seeing them, since we had never seen so many khawajas at once outside of Juba. They were all attending college and were mainly from the east/midwest (Virginia, Pennsylvania, Indiana). They were in Nimule through an organization, New Community Project, one of the girls, Emily, created with a group about a year ago, and they were mainly here to teach classes in the primary and secondary schools. Emily has been in Nimule for about 9 months, which has placed her as one of the million terrorist suspects on the already inflated U.S. watch list. Pretty funny. She brought four other girls for this summer, and although they do not travel much, they have all developed strong relationships with the people around them. Emily and Maria teach English, Sarah teaches biology, Larisa teaches agro-forestry, and Jana teaches art and music (she even brought her guitar here!). They tell us that there are about 1500 students in one school and about 150 students in ONE classroom. But these students are an American schoolteacher’s dream. Once all the students settle in, they sit patiently and listen intently to the teacher. Even though the girls see serious gaps in their education, the children will enthusiastically invite anything the girls teach them.

Dinner was a fantastic feast. Soooo good! Amazing chicken, fresh (not dried!) Nile perch fish, salad (cabbage, tomatoes, onions), greens, sweet potatoes, posho (ugali), and chips. Man, way better than the food in Torit…and definitely more variety.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008
I woke up to the sound of the cooks banging on metal pots…and to something that sounded like fireworks (but probably not). I was really surprised by how cold it was in the morning, but it felt very nice. The shower had the softest pressure ever, and it felt so good. Man, these girls at Nimule really had it good! They even have power running here all day long, so it really does not matter what time they go to sleep. There is a TV in the tukul dining room, which they always have on. When I asked what time the power turned off, all the girls looked at me funny. But Emma told me they do not get internet here, which is the only downside. But I actually liked going on this whole week without internet…it was so relaxing.

For breakfast, we had sweet potato curry, maize and bread. AGAIN, so good! We watched a little bit of Al-Jazeera (I actually really like this channel), and most of the news focused on the indictment of President Al-Bashir, who is seeking China for help in the UN. I was really surprised that there were UN peacekeepers getting attacked and killed in the Darfur region. But it did not surprise me enough to want to leave.

Jerome wanted to clean the Pajero because it got so dirty from driving on the road. He first debated whether we should go to the Nile or stay in the compound to clean the car, and then decided on going to the river. We drove down the hills to the Nile and stopped our car next to some other vehicle picking up water from the river. The spot was really muddy and Jerome embarrassed himself when he slipped and fell on the mud. Haha. There was a lady washing her clothes and a couple of boys swimming in the water. Watching them really made me want to take off my clothes and jump in the Nile, but Jerome would not let us because he was afraid we would get a disease like schistosomiasis…or get attacked by a crocodile. We probably could have swum in the Nile, but he did not want anything to happen to us and get blamed for it. So for the next half hour, while Jerome tried to figure out a way of getting out water without falling into the river, I just watched the little grass islands floating on the river and the pretty dragonflies flying around us. It was so serene. I could have stayed there for hours.

But Jerome got frustrated and wanted to go back to the compound to wash the car. George and I helped Jerome wash the inside and out of the Pajero as much as we could, and it looked significantly cleaner. We then took the car to visit Jerome’s friends on the slope of one of the hills beyond the road. Seriously, the view looked like something out of the book Heidi. We met a woman named Mary, who taught Emma a little embroidery, and then came back to the compound to eat lunch. Maria and Larisa asked us if we wanted to play with the schoolchildren at the football field, so we followed them out and walked to the nearby field. They attempted to start a game of Monkey in the Middle with the children, but a large number of them were more interested in surrounding the 3 khawajas they had never seen before. Most of them crowded around me, and I tried to speak the few greeting words I knew in Madi to them, but they were so curious and mesmerized by me, that they did not want to answer back. I even felt a few children pulling my hair, wondering why my hair was so long and black while theirs was cut off or shaved. It really made me uncomfortable, so George, Emma, and Jerome escorted me back to the compound.

Dinner, again, was nothing short of amazing: fried fish, chips, and boiled cassava. We watched a bit of Al-Jazeera, until we heard the sound of Mark’s car arriving at the compound. Mark is one of the friends we met in Nairobi, and he is best buddies with Jerome. It is really cute seeing the two together and joking around. They act like brothers. We walked off to the multi-center building within the compound, and ordered a round of drinks there with Mark. It was dark by the time we finished.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Our car always has problems. We had to fix something with the engine (?), I don’t know. But Mark had problems with his car too, so I put on Jerome’s ridiculously baggy and dirty jumpers and helped Mark out. Something was wrong with his shock absorbers, but I did not know anything about them, so he made me raise the jack under the car, unscrew the bolts on the tire, and give him the tools he needed while he did his thing. It was pretty fun…Now I know how to change a tire if I ever get a flat tire on the road.

Later, I helped Emma hand wash our clothes but we did a terrible job. We were so bad, in fact, that an old woman came over and showed us how to do it right. Yeah right we could have washed it as skillfully and as aggressively as she did! She totally made us feel useless, and then left.

George, Emma, and Jerome went off to get welding done on the car. I went to CRS for some internet. We were originally going to come back to Torit tomorrow, but because Uganda is so close, we thought it would be great to prolong this trip and go to Kampala for the weekend. The problem was that Emma left her passport in Torit, and I left my anti-malarial pills. But we heard Father Vuni was coming to Nimule on Saturday, and we needed to email him to send over those items for us so that we could go. So I sent an out an email to him right at the moment George, Emma, and Jerome arrived. They picked me up, and we went over to a small collection of buildings on one of the hills called the Nile View. It was a sit-down area where we could order drinks and food. Mark and Jerome’s other friend, Patrick, joined us. Jerome wanted to show me that they watch Indian movies here, so he made the owners put on Zee TV, a known Indian channel, for all the men in the bar. It was really embarrassing for me because the movie had a horrible plot line (as always), and the dancing was pathetic. But Jerome was having a fun time imitating the dance moves. I had to cover my eyes in embarrassment.

We then dropped off Patrick, ordered some more drinks (Ugandan Waragi), and sat outside the compound talking to Mark about the first time he met his wife. Really cute story. We kept hearing bats in the trees, and I kept hearing their echo noises throughout the night when I went back to bed and slept. Meanwhile, George and Emma were still outside talking because George had a little too much to drink.

Thursday, July 17, 2008
George was still in bed, and Maria asked Emma and me if we wanted to accompany her on her walk to the orphanage. We walked down the main road, to the other side of town, and went up the hill where there were many small buildings along the path. Maria told us that there were three other Americans volunteering at the orphanage who were supposed to leave today, so there were a lot of children around playing with them and saying their goodbyes. Most of these children were orphaned from the war or from parents who were unable to provide for them, but the children were treated and cared for well at the orphanage. Ranging from ages 4 to 20, they all had clothes, shoes, and a place to stay. The only problem is that the WFP recently pulled out of sending grants for the orphanage to get food, so they have been eating beans, greens, and posho everyday. No rice or meat. It seems like in every sector, NGOs like to pull out within a very short notice, and it is very disappointing.

We met an American who was our age, named Sophie. She has been volunteering and taking care of the children at the orphanage for about 6 months, and is staying for a longer period of time. The children call her “Mama Sophie”, and she showed us their pet monkey. On the way walking back from the orphanage, Maria told us that keeping up this orphanage is hard work for Sophie and she does not enjoy it as much as she used to. I can imagine how difficult it must be.

As we walked down the road, Maria led us into the market to a shop that sold colorful cloth. Man, Emma and I went crazy. She showed us a lot of places with beautiful cloth, and I bought a single (half the cloth) for 15 pounds (or 12,000 shillings). Maria bought the other half and asked a woman at the shop to sew it up for her into a skirt. Emma and I are planning to go to Kampala to get it sewn since we are not going to stay in Nimule for long.

On the way walking back to the compound, a tall old woman came behind us and we turned around. The woman, who had patches on her forehead and wore rags, introduced herself as Betty, but Maria told us we needed to call her Queen Elizabeth Betty. She bowed down and asked for money, but we did not have any. Thankfully Maria knew how to deal with her without Queen Elizabeth Betty following us to the compound.

When we got back to the compound, Jerome and George were ready to take us to Fula Falls to see the elephants and hippos. We picked up the gamekeeper, Musseyo (“old man”), who is also the brother of Bishop Paride. He took us to meet the head officer of the army, Charles, who guards the Falls. Initially Charles asked that we pay 400 pounds ($200) to see the Falls, but we tell him we are poor and do not have the money to even pay for the fuel in our car. He tells us that the Japanese came there recently and paid 2000 pounds a person to film a documentary at the Falls. The Japanese would do such a thing. Eventually we negotiated it down to 200 pounds for the four of us after we told him we worked for DoT (the Diocese). But then we find out that the elephants have migrated away and were not there at the moment. So we tell him we will come back in a few days to see them at the same price he offered us.

We get back in time for lunch (cabbage, fried catfish, and chips), and then play a bit of cards. We hear that there is a football match outside again, so we walk toward the multitude of people surrounding the field. Jerome, George, and I move towards one end of the field, but the children start to crowd around me again. Boy, I felt like a goldfish. They were more interested in me than the game, and it was difficult to concentrate on the game with all their eyes on me (they avoid George). I get really frustrated when a lot of them blocked my view of the field just so they could see my face, and I don’t even notice that I am starting to tear up until Jerome starts to laugh at me. So George and Jerome escort me around the field to the other side. At the other end of the field, I had a better view of the game, but the children again start to close in on me and step over the boundaries of the field to get a better look at my face. Luckily there was a terrifying man in crutches who boasted to us that he arrested the man next to us for stealing his beer. He swung his crutches in a way that scared and scattered all the children away from the field. But then the children kept crowding around me again, and it got to the point where the man yelled at George and me for distracting the children and disturbing the game. Angered, he screamed, “You white people, go to the back! Go behind everyone else!” Humiliated, George and I walked around and went back to the other end of the field again. This time I was so fed up, we just left the game and went to the compound. Emma, this whole time, was near the volleyball court talking to Ed on the phone. We find out we can no longer go to Kampala, and we are disappointed for the rest of the night.

We do nothing interesting after dinner…just play some more cards, talk, and then sleep, knowing we were not going to Uganda anymore.

Friday, July 18, 2008

In the morning, after watching Ghostbusters II and Dick Tracy (a colorful 20's gangster film) in the dining room, we walked over to the Diocese’s nearby PHCU and talked to the doctor, Dominic. He showed us around and told us that the recent kits they got contained only 30 courses of Coartem, which was brought over from MDTF because the medicines for Magwi were already taken out from Juba. Contrary to what the Director of Pharmacy in Juba told us, the packages they get from the government are not labeled to their facility. But the clinic works well with the Merlin hospital close by; they often refer TB patients over there and for vaccinations. We then talked to the midwife, who was trained in Uganda. I was really surprised that the PHCU had a laboratory and an ANC clinic, because then it would be a primary health care center. Strange.

We went over to Merlin hospital, but no one was there to talk to us. So Emma and I went to the market and shopped for more cloth. The whole time we have been in Southern Sudan, we had never had the time to go cloth shopping. And now we were going to splurge and treat ourselves. In the end, I bought too much cloth.

At dinner, we talked to the girls. The food was different, but it was still SOOO good. Pasta, some really tasty tomato and egg sauce, and saucy beans. I know I keep typing down what we ate for each meal, but boy I like to remember it.

After dinner, we went out to talk to Father Mawa and Father Andrew under the mango trees. I really like Father Mawa; he is such a kind person. Teones and Peter from Torit arrived today, so we all talked. They were supposed to go to Loki the next day, but the road to Loki is really dangerous. The bandits do not just rob you—they shoot and kill people along the way. It had gotten so bad that the SPLA started to station troops at night along the road to take away the bandits. But half of the road is in Kenya, so the SPLA is getting in trouble with the Kenyan army for arresting the Kenyan citizens robbing the people along the road. What a dilemma. So they need to travel with an escort or a convoy of cars on the road to be safe. But these people are brave. I remember when Bishop Paride drove us from Juba to Torit, a soldier stopped us along the way to get a ride. The Bishop told him we were full. And even when the soldier demanded that one of us get out and walk to town, the Bishop said no like it was nothing. He did not care that the soldier was carrying an AK-47 over his shoulder, but Americans would generally be petrified about this and feel stupid to say no to a man with a gun.

Afterwards, George started talking about Hurricane Katrina and New Orleans and how the problem started when the city drained their swamps to rid malaria. I went off to bed and said goodbye to Teones and Peter. I wish I took a picture of them.

Saturday, July 19, 2008
We went to the hospital today and gave it another shot. The only place where we could interview was the VCT center. The head lady told us that people are ready to take mosquito nets from the hospital, but are embarrassed to take the water filters and the condoms because it labels them. I guess this is why Ed had always wanted us to focus on malaria.

Then we headed over to the mechanic to get welding done on our car—again. I am sure if we tallied up how many hours we have spent repairing this Pajero, it would add up to 2 whole days. Because we were no longer going to Uganda anymore, Emma and I found a seamstress nearby who was ready to sew half of our clothes into skirts by the evening. She could sew a skirt in 30 minutes, which is ridiculously fast. So Emma and I walked back to the compound, picked up our cloth, and dropped them off with her. I had her sew two skirts, which came out pretty nice. On the way walking back, we heard music playing from a cart. We saw a man selling ice cream, and we were so surprised that we bought some off him for 1 pound. The ice cream wasn’t really ice cream…it was this pink mushy ice thing that tasted like bubblegum. And it tasted strange…but it was worth trying.

Jerome told us earlier that he heard the elephants crying at night, so we headed over to Fula Falls again…but Charles wasn’t there. So we got back to the compound, and Father Vuni arrived! He brought all the stuff we emailed him for, and we talked to him during dinner. He told us about the beginnings of the Diocese, which was created in 1983 and had 5 Fathers at the time (now there are 60). When the war started a few days after CDoT was created, Nimule and Torit were some of the places that the SPLA completely closed off from the outside. So the Diocese’s emergency relief efforts came by default. They asked donors to bring money for food, and they would send it out to the people who were starving in the towns. There were times when trucks ahead of them would explode from a landmine, and the Fathers would feel tempted to turn back and escape. But Bishop Paride refused, so all the Fathers remained to help. The problem now is that all the projects they created out of necessity during the war, like all our health facilities and schools, are difficult to sustain during peacetime. It makes me happy to know that I am helping them.

We then started to talk about all the trees they grow in Nimule: guava, passion fruit, mango, orange, teak, and neem (aka Plant #40). Neem is reputed here as an herbal remedy for 40 diseases. If you boil the leaves into tea and drink it everyday, it will protect you from malaria because it has quinine. If you rub it on the skin with salt, it will act as an insecticide. If you rub it in the area where you have been infected by a guinea worm, it will kill the guinea worm. Truthfully, I believe in the malaria one.

At night, I joined Jerome, George, and Emma for their movie night. We watched Apocalypto, a gory savagery movie, and Lethal Weapon 1. No wonder Mel Gibson is so popular.

Sunday, July 20, 2008
We watched more movies today and went to fix more of the car. I did not write notes for today, so I really don’t remember what we did. It must have been more of the usual.

In the morning, Father Mawa and Father Vuni delivered their sermons at the church nearby. I did not want to arrive late and interrupt the service, so I remained in the compound after breakfast.

In the evening, we tried for Fula Falls again. The main people were still not there, but the people at the port got mad at us for taking pictures without permission. So we came back and joined all the Fathers for some drinks at the multi-center building. Father Vuni told us that he came to Nimule to visit his family nearby and to look over the renovation of a secondary school in Loa—a project that he initiated and got a Canadian donor to fund. We also heard the terrible news that Moses’s house was burned down. Most of the qualified personnel who work for the Diocese come from other countries (i.e. Kenya and Uganda), so they suspect the burning happened because of anti-foreigner motives (but Father Amayo does not think this is true). Regardless, this was bad news for us because we were planning to go to Isoke soon, and the last thing we want is people angry at foreign workers. Once in the car shop, someone kept questioning Jerome where he was from because he was with three monzoongos (Kenyan word for white people). They assumed he was coming into Sudan only to take away their jobs. The thing is, we heard from the DCP2 conference in Juba that when the government attempted to train Sudanese nurses, the nurses all left to work in countries like the U.K. and the U.S. So in order to meet the number of qualified staff required for necessary services, people should welcome foreigners who want to work here. For the first time, it really made me question brain draining.

Monday, July 21, 2008
Today we woke up at 7:30 in the morning and left the compound at our last attempt to see the elephants at Fula Falls. An hour later, while waiting for the army to finish their morning exercises, Charles finally told us that the elephants were there and that we were able to go. So we left to go to a small port near the edge of the Nile. But after spending 200 pounds on the park, we realized that we may not have enough money to pay for the boat that would take us across the Nile. George and I scrambled for whatever money left in our pockets, but we dug out only 15 pounds and 2000 shillings, which was obviously not enough. Even Charles was surprised to find that these three khawajas were telling the truth all this time and REALLY did not have money. These boats usually take an additional 50 pounds per person! But we waited at the port for the boats to arrive from Uganda and to see how much we could bargain it down to. A half-hour later, one arrived with a full load of passengers, and Charles walked up to the man in charge of the boat, telling him how much we had to offer for the four of us. The guy was obviously not happy, but then nice Charles and Musseyo each put in 10,000 shillings for us, which was not enough…but enough to have the man give in and take us for a ride in his motor boat.

So we hopped on and rode out on the Nile River. It was really exciting for all of us, even for Jerome. We reached land, and walked through the tall grass to where the elephants were supposed to be. At first I could not see them, but then in the distance I saw these grey boulder-like figures next to the trees. There were about two elephants that I got a good look at, but then Jerome lifted me up to see the rest on the other side of us. There were about six elephants we saw, and we tried not to be so loud because they can stampede when they hear people close by. We headed back to the river, and behind the boat, we saw three hippos pop their heads out of the water! One of them was blowing water up in the air. It was difficult to get pictures of them because they would instantly duck under the water. They were so cute! (They are actually really dangerous when you are near, but they look so cute!) And then, when we turned around the bend of the river, we saw the face of a HUGE HUGE elephant standing in the water. The gigantic ears, the long trunk, the tusks…everything! It was so exciting. We remained there for awhile as the elephant turned around and displayed us its big behind. We then rode off, back to the port. This was seriously the best part of the whole week. This was the reason why we even bothered to come to Nimule. Now that we saw the elephants and the hippos, we were prepared to head back to Torit.

For the road, we bought some chapatti and rolex (fried chapatti and egg rolled together in a burrito-style). Along the way, our Pajero hit something metal on the road. When we stopped in Pageri, we realized that one of our tires got punctured and was slowly deflating. So we waited for an hour for the people to help us change the tire and to patch up the old one. A police officer wanted to hitch a ride with us, so we let him because we thought it would be safe to have him with us at night, despite the fact that he was old and did not carry a gun. We decided to take the Magwi road, which is a lot shorter than the Juba road but is terrible when the rains hit it. Luckily it did not rain the night before, so we chose to drive on it so that we could get to Torit at a reasonable time. I liked the road. It was narrow and reminded me of the road to Imilai. There were a few stretches along the road where we had to drive over deep, water-filled potholes, but it was not that bad. At one point we saw a huge monkey stride past the front of our car…except that it did not look like a monkey because it was ape-like and black. And near the potholes, a number of large flies would swarm inside the car and fly around. George, Emma, Jerome, and the police officer all tried to swat the flies that came in because they thought they were Tsetse flies (even though I don’t know how they came to that conclusion). But they all looked so ridiculous trying to kill all the flies that kept coming in, I could not stop laughing and being useless in helping them out.

We passed a village called Operi, where Marc is from and where the people grow a lot of sorghum. There was a section on the road that people were doing construction. One of the men came up to us and told us we had to pay 5 pounds in order to pass. We could not believe someone was trying to bribe us even with a policeman inside the car. But we passed without paying him. We eventually passed Magwi, and although we would have stopped there to see our health center, it was getting late and we did not want to drive too late at night.

On the way out, we saw an abandoned tank. Jerome started to talk about Night Dancers, which are possessed people who come out at night and eat other human beings or the dead. Why is it that every time we drive at night, the three tend to talk about things that always scare the crap out of me? There was this one point on the road where our car had to struggle out of the mud of some major pothole, and while everyone was praying that we made it through, I was praying that no Night Dancers would pop out at the moment and eat us alive. In retrospect, that sounds stupid. But it wasn’t when we were driving in the middle of that forest!

But thankfully, we got back safely. :-)

-Neesha