The Sheikh is coming! The Sheikh is coming!

And now for another Darfur flashback...

In December 2008, CHF International, an American NGO with a large operation in Darfur, held a basket sale. Among CHF's many projects in Darfur was a livelihoods project for displaced women living in some of Darfur's IDP camps (in South Darfur, the project focused on Kalma Camp outside of Nyala). Through this project, CHF provided materials to women in the camps so they could make traditional baskets. CHF would then sell these baskets in Nyala, Khartoum, and the US and pay the women who made them. (CHF was one of the 13 international NGOs expelled from northern Sudan in March 2009.)

CHF had a permanent basket shop at their office in Nyala. But in December, they hosted a large holiday sale at the shop. So, I decided that I should take advantage of it and maybe buy some Christmas gifts for friends and family back in the US. I was also looking for one thing for me: a decent-sized basket that I could use as a trash can.

I settled on the basket above. Well, when I returned to the IOM office in Nyala with my hands full of new baskets and wall-hangings, I was stopped at the gate by several of guards and drivers who wished to examine my purchases. One of our drivers noticed this basket in particular.

He took hold of the basket and looked at it admiringly. He then explained that, traditionally, people in Darfur keep these baskets around in case the sheikh, a traditional community leader in Darfur society, comes to visit. When the sheikh comes to visit, you are supposed to fill the basket with food and serve it to the sheikh.

Well, after hearing this, there was no way I could tell him how I planned to use the basket!

I entered the office carrying the basket and feeling extremely guilty. I relayed the story to my Canadian colleague. I was feeling really bad, but she reassured me, saying that if the sheikh came to visit, I could always empty the trash and fill the basket with food! :-) So practical...

And in the end, I did use the basket as a trash can. So, shhhhh, don't tell any Darfuris!

"Roadblocks" in South Kordofan

And now for a blast from the past...

My last mission with UNDP closed a circle that had begun in September 2007. During the first week of July 2008, I boarded a plane for Kadugli, South Kordofan, for what would be the last of my rule of law assessment missions.

When I disembarked from the plane, one might have assumed that I had been there quite recently, rather than 10 months before. I say this because, when the police officer at the airport asked to see my passport and ID, he asked (without having seen either), "Your name is Hillary, right? I remember you from when you came before." Terrifying, right?! I mean, I assume I'm being watched, but I don't really want to be reminded of that fact.

From there it was off to Kadugli town and the UNDP office. Having faced delays in my departure for Kadugli, I had three very busy days ahead of me. The next day and half was busy but largely uneventful. I survived a couple of nights at the UNDP guesthouse--by far the worst UNDP guesthouse in Sudan. I got to know St. John, the new UNDP Rule of Law UNV, who was supposed to go to Abyei but was reassigned to Kadugli after most of Abyei, including the UNDP compound, was burnt to the ground during fighting in June 2008. I learned about the rainy season in South Kordofan. It turns out that there is a good reason why South Kordofan is so much greener than areas to the north. Finally, I had dinner at what is reportedly Kadugli's only good restaurant. That's where I saw this monkey, which apparently the owners had caught.

On my third day in South Kordofan, we drove north to Dilling, the site of one of 3 Justice & Confidence Centers in South Kordofan. On the drive north, we passed this nomad camp between Kadugli and Dilling. The nomads in this part of the country herd cattle and typically travel with thousands of the animals.

I had met the Dilling paralegals in September 2007 and been impressed with their dedication. In the meantime, they had suffered a number of setbacks, many attributable to UNDP. I was therefore somewhat nervous about meeting them again. But I needn't have worried. Although they made clear that they wanted things resolved and asked me to do anything in my power to help them, they were quite cooperative, answered my questions, and seemed genuinely happy to see me again. In fact, they had a photo taken during my previous visit on the wall of their conference room.

On the drive back to Kadugli from Dilling, we were forced to stop at a roadblock that had not been there when we drove north. Roadblocks and checkpoints are not unusual in Sudan. The government, for example, has a number of roadblocks and checkpoints throughout the country. Darfur, in particular, is littered with them. Indeed, the road from Nyala to Kass in South Darfur had something like 16 official checkpoints that last time I was there. In Darfur, however, when you encounter an unofficial roadblock, particularly one that wasn't there when you drove the other direction, you have serious cause to worry. These roadblocks are typically set up by the region's various armed groups for the purpose of robbing or carjacking travelers. Thus, if one encounters a new road block in Darfur, the wisest move is usually to turn around and return to one's place of origin.

The roadblock in this case, however, turned out to be benign. Those minding the roadblock were children, who were apparently trying to raise money for an event at their school. The kids were requesting donations from the drivers who arrived at the roadblock. They did not, however, prevent those who failed to donate from passing. As was explained by some of my national colleagues, this is apparently a popular way for kids and others to raise money for parties and other activities at their schools or in their communities. I quickly learned how true this was.

The first roadblock we encountered turned out to be the first of many...four or five to be exact. At first, we were quite generous. But by the time we arrived at the roadblock in the picture above, most of us were out of change. Although there were 4 of us in the car, we found ourselves scrounging through our pockets in order to produce a donation. Thankfully, this was the last of the roadblocks, and we returned to Kadugli without having to disappoint any of the children along the way.

Childbirth in Darfur

...is a disturbing proposition under the best of circumstances but, under certain conditions, can be downright horrific.

The most fortunate women in South Darfur have the privilege of giving birth at the Nyala Teaching Hospital. Very few of these, however, can afford to pay for medical care. Those who can afford to pay for treatment have the opportunity to give birth in the best wing of the Nyala Hospital, which is basic but sterile and spacious. The remainder of the hospital, which offers universal health care, is purportedly dirty and severely overcrowded, with two or more patients sharing each bed. But even these women are fortunate compared to the residents of many of South Darfur's remote villages.

I visited Kassarat al-Buram, a village south of Nyala, in November 2008. While there, we asked the residents where they go for medical care. Kassarat al-Buram does not have a clinic or medical center and is located over 2 hours by foot from Nyala. However, Nyala offers the closest available health care. While one of Nyala's internally displaced persons (IDP) camp is closer to Kassarat al-Buram than the city of Nyala itself, the camp's clinic is only open to residents of the camp.

Consequently, many women end up giving birth in the village. As was pointed out, the village does not have any trained midwives. Thus, the only assistance available to these women is the "traditional midwife." I, of course, had to ask what this meant. And we were given a very vivid answer.

This meeting was held in a large canvas tent in the village. The tent was intended as a school, but due to a lack of teachers, it now serves merely as a meeting place or maybe community center. The tent is held up by several wooden branches, and hanging from one of these branches was a medium-weight rope. As demonstrated by the village's traditional midwife, traditional childbirth in Darfur apparently involves standing at a forty-five degree angle while hanging onto this or a simlar rope. Women then push the baby out from there.

The reality of this experience was further hit home at the end of the meeting, when a woman of 19 or 20 allowed me to hold her new baby. This little boy was absolutely adorable and seemed healthy despite the village's general plight. But while I was holding this little boy, the traditional midwife who, like the baby's mother, did not speak English, tried to explain through gestures that this baby had been born using the rope method. I couldn't help but look at him and his mother in a very different way.

I have to admit, I was shocked. There are certainly a number of things in this world that I would rather never experience, but this one quickly shot to the top ten. Clearly, the women of Kassarat al-Buram are much more courageous than I.

Another Update...

As some of you may remember, when I was living in Khartoum in May 2008, the neighboring city of Omdurman was attacked by rebels from the Darfur Justice and Equality Movement. I just found the following article, which offers an update on the outcome of that event.

Sudan Court Sentences 10 Alleged Rebels to Death

Hello all! At long last I have returned. I'd like to begin by apologizing for my absence, but from there I'm not sure where to go. An indescribable amount has happened since I last posted something on this blog, and I'm really not sure what to share first. In fact, I do not have much time to write now.

That being said, I will take this opportunity to update you on my current status. I am no longer in Darfur or even Sudan. I left Sudan and IOM on 17 March 2009 and do not plan to return. In fact, if all goes as planned, my next posts should come from Tanzania. In the meantime, I am back in the US rejuvenating after 3 very stressful months, during which I was stuck in Khartoum, unable to return to Nyala or to leave the country. But more about that later...

For now, I would just like to say hi and assure everyone that I have not forgotten about this blog and the many friends around the world who have taken the time to reading my ramblings. In addition, just to catch everyone up on some of the developments in Sudan and Darfur during the last few months, please see the following links:

Dancing Bashir Scoffs at Arrest Warrant (This first story was written by my friend Pete, who I met in Eritrea and have possibly mentioned in earlier posts on this blog.)

Warrant Sparks Anger in Khartoum

UN Urges Sudanese to Rethink on Aid

Envoy Pursues Restoration of Aid in Darfur, Sudan Peace Agreement

Two Members of French Aid Group Kidnapped in Sudan

Sudan Kidnappers Threaten to Kill Aid Workers

"Alaska Fashion"

As of this Tuesday, I will have been in Nyala for one month. And what a month it has been! Although I can honestly say that much of it has been spent either in quiet reflection or curled up with a book, it has nevertheless been a month of considerable change. I have been overwhelmed with information about my new job; have tried, largely unsuccessfully, to settle into my new house; and have met more people than I can ever hope to remember. Unfortunately, the settling process has taken longer than I would have liked due to some uncertainty surrounding the living situation in our house. But, after about 2 weeks in one bedroom, I have been relocated to a second, much larger, room and am looking forward to making myself at home at last.

Within the last three plus weeks, I have also been out on three one-day field missions to other parts of Darfur (and I expect to go on another mission this week). The first of these missions was a helicopter mission to the southwest corner of South Darfur. Unfortunately, the most remarkable thing about this mission cannot be discussed in this forum. Nevertheless, I have one entertaining anecdote that I can relay:

For anyone who has paid attention to my blogging about Sudan, it will not come as a surprise when I say that Sudan is hot. Ok, so South Darfur is in no way as hot as Khartoum. But it is hot nonetheless. So imagine my surprise when I got out of the helicopter in this village in South Darfur and was greeted by a man wearing a very puffy parka with the label "Alaska Fashion" on the breast!!! Of course, given my background, I found this amusing for several reasons. 1) I can't imagine ever having any reason or desire to wear any piece of clothing deserving of the label "Alaska Fashion" in Sudan. Indeed, while this guy was wearing this coat, I was quite hot in a long-sleeved shirt and pants. 2) I couldn't help but wonder where this Alaska Fashion was coming from. And 3) Having lived in Alaska for a year, I can say with certainty that, despite how puffy this parka may have looked, no one would have dared wear it in Alaska as there is no way that it could possibly be warm enough for an Alaskan winter!

A Hard Rain's A Gonna Fall...

So I begin with a disclaimer: Bob Dylan was actually the soundtrack for my mission to Nyala and not for my trips to Geneina and El Fasher. One of UNDP's drivers in Nyala had Bob Dylan's greatest hits on replay while I was there. Apparently it was a new addition to his playlist and was well received by the khawajas at UNDP (myself included).

However, given the tranquility that accompanied my mission to Nyala, this title did not seem appropriate for my post about that trip. Rather, it seemed more befitting my missions to Geneina, the capital of West Darfur, and El Fasher, the capital of North Darfur, in early June 2008.

Although neither of these trips was particularly upsetting, both brought me closer to the news stories about Darfur than had my trip to Nyala. I visited IDP camps in both locations. I watched as unidentified armed me drove technicals (pick up trucks with machine guns mounted on the beds) past the UNDP office in Geneina. And I traveled in a vehicle convoy between the UNDP office in Geneina and the Justice & Confidence Center UNDP supports in one of the IDP camps in order to avoid a carjacking. (We did, but the next day two UNHCR vehicles were carjacked from that same camp.)

On the other hand, I also saw signs of hope and normacy during these trips, such as the vibrant market in Geneina and these boys playing soccer outside Al Salaam IDP camp in El Fasher.

And although my trips to Geneina and Fasher may have brought me closer to a news story about Darfur than did my mission to Nyala, they were anything but unpleasant. I never felt stressed out or afraid. Rather, I enjoyed the break from the havoc of Khartoum. And for better or worse, my trip to Fasher conjures more memories of movies at the UNDP guesthouse, meals at the ARC (the massive UNAMID headquarters), and Joel's puppy pictures than it does thoughts of the IDPs down the road at Al Salaam.

(The pictures above are as follows: Geneina from the air, paralegals at the Justice & Confidence Center in Geneina, camels in downtown Geneina, Al Salaam IDP camp in El Fasher, and a group of boys outside Al Salaam.)

Out of the Frying Pan and into the Fire

So, after one year in Khartoum and six weeks of vacation in the states, I'm now living in Nyala, South Darfur. I arrived back in Sudan on October 6 and in Nyala on October 14. I'm now settling into my new job with the International Organization for Migration and looking forward to an interesting and productive time to come. More stories to follow...

Domesticity in Darfur

It's hard to believe it's already September. Time seems to fly. I've been planning this post since I visited Nyala from April 29 to May 5, 2008. Yet some how it's taken me four months to get around to writing it.

And things have changed during those four months. In fact, I feel funny writing this now that the United Nations has elevated the security phase for Darfur from phase III to phase IV and limited its programs in the region emergency operations, humanitarian relief, and other programs deemed necessary by the Secretary General. But the fact is, I had a very good time in Nyala. And I think it's worth sharing a different perspective on Darfur than that which most people who have never been there tend to think of. That way, maybe my friends and family won't worry so much about me.

My six days in the capital of South Darfur were among the most relaxing and intellectually stimulating of my year in Sudan. During that week, I enjoyed family-style lunches at the UNDP office, attended a number of dinner parties at guesthouses around Nyala, stayed up late discussing access to justice and the role of a development agency in a conflict zone under the rakuba (shown below), played the British version of Cranium and with the kitten who was staying at the guesthouse, and ate very, very well.

And when I say I ate well, I mean it. My first night in Nyala, I attended a good-bye party at the IOM office, where I partook in a feast of Indian food to the sounds of Amharic music. The next night, I joined my UNDP colleagues for dinner at an NGO guesthouse, where we fed on tacos and fajitas...in Sudan! And one night, we even had talapia imported from Lake Victoria, prepared in traditional Kenyan style, and mojitos. I don't even eat that well in Khartoum. I certainly didn't expect it in Darfur.

All things considered, I greatly preferred Nyala to Khartoum. Everyone I met was extremely friendly. No one yelled "khawaja" at me on the streets as they do in Khartoum. The weather was substantially cooler there than it was in Khartoum at that time of year. And I got to chill under the rakuba every night. How do you beat that?

So, naturally, I felt a little guilty as I left Nyala. Although I was there for work, for me it felt almost like a vacation from my real life. And yet tens of thousands are living in internally displaced persons camps around Nyala. These are people with real problems, who have suffered in ways that we in the west can hardly imagine. But as I've always said, I'm trying to avoid politics in this blog, and I did very well when I was in Eritrea. So, I will leave it at that.

HALLAS!

Today is my last day at UNDP Sudan. While I may be returning to Sudan, I will not be coming back to UNDP. Thus, I wanted to share a few photos from the small going away party my co-workers organized for me here at UNDP. I have a number of other posts planned, which I promise to get to shortly. For now, hallas!

Hunkered Down

I promise more updates soon, but for the time being, I just want to assure everyone that I'm fine. You might have heard about the changes in the security situation in Khartoum surrounding the recent ICC indictments. But for the time being things remain calm. Nevertheless, we've been instructed to take it easy, work from home, and restrict our movements. I am optimistic that things here will be fine. And I will try to keep everyone posted on my whereabouts.

Reasons NOT to move to Blue Nile State

I have been traveling a lot for work recently. Which makes me very happy. Unfortunately, it has taken me a long time to update this blog on my travels.

Now, if I were going to do this chronologically, my first stop would have to be Nyala, South Darfur. I visited Nyala between April 29 and May 5, 2008. However, because I have less to say about Damazin, Blue Nile State, which I visited from May 20 to 22, I think I'll start there.

Blue Nile State is one of the Three Protocol Areas, along with South Kordofan State and Abyei, which I visited in September 2007. Blue Nile is located on the border with Ethiopia in Eastern Sudan. As the name suggests, the Blue Nile begins in Ethiopia and runs through Blue Nile State on it's way to Khartoum, where it joins the White Nile. The Rosereis Dam, located in Blue Nile State, produces the vast majority of Sudan's electricity and happens to be a popular honeymoon destination for Sudanese.

Like the other Protocol Areas, Blue Nile State was on the front lines during Sudan's North-South Civil War. Despite severe devastation, Blue Nile State has generally been more successful in implementing the terms of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement than have the other two Protocol Areas.

My recent trip to Damazin, the capital of Blue Nile State, was shorter than intended. I was originally scheduled to arrive on Monday May 19 and depart on Thursday May 22. Unfortunately, as often happens when someone from a UN agency tries to fly with one of the mission flights (UNMIS or UNAMID), I didn't make it on. Thus, I was forced to delay my departure until the next day. This meant that the days that I was in Damazin were quite busy, but in the end I got most of what I wanted to done.

But I'm not going to talk about work. Rather, I'm going to talk about snakes, because you all know how much I love snakes. So, on my first day in Damazin, we drove out of town to the United Nations Mission in Sudan (UNMIS) compound in order to meet with someone in their human rights unit. While the meeting was productive, by far the most memorable part of that meeting was the drive back to UNDP.

We were about half of the way back when Abbas, the National Rule of Law Officer in Damazin, yelled to the driver to stop. Off to our left, a village woman was carrying a dead snake on the end of a machete. The driver stopped, and we (Jennifer, the Project Manager in Damazin; Abbas; and I) jumped out the vehicle and approached the woman, asking if we could photograph the snake. The result was the following photos.



Now, hopefully I'm not alone in thinking that this is a big snake. Moreover, apparently it's very poisonous. But at least it was dead. On the other hand, when we got back in the car, Jennifer proceeded to tell me how she was nearly bitten by a highly-deadly black snake of similar size...wait for it...in the UNDP office/guesthouse compound (pictured below)! She followed that up by saying that, yes, there are a fair number of snakes in Damazin, if I want to see a lot of snakes, I should go to Kurmuk, another town in Blue Nile State. Yeah, I don't think I'm going to go work in Blue Nile any time soon!


And finally, I would like to leave you with this photo of the "Damazin Cinema." I was blown away when I saw this. I realize for many of you out there in the world, a cinema is not worth a photograph. But that just means you haven't been to Sudan. You have to understand the context. I am only aware of one cinema in Khartoum, a city of at least 5 million people. There are probably more, but they certainly aren't ubiquitous. So I certainly didn't expect to find one in Damazin, a state capital that's little more than a village.

Horribly Haboobed!

Ok, so I've never seen anything quite like this. Or at least not from this angle. (If I had, I would have taken several dozen pictures of my own.) This photo, however, was taken in my current neighborhood in Khartoum, and the haboobs I've experienced have been quite an interesting experience. The season seems to be more of less over. April was definitely the most active month. But there may still be a few to come.

I find that the haboobs tend to sneak up on you. Sure, they're preceded by a fair amount of wind, but when you see that large cloud of dust approaching, you don't have that much time to take cover (assuming you choose to take cover. It seems that the locals react only to the largest of haboobs.) At the same time, it's quite different from what you see in the movies. This isn't The Mummy. When I say not much time, I mean maybe 10 minutes, not 10 seconds.

Unfortunately, the most impressive haboobs I've experienced in Khartoum all occured at night. Thus, rather than seeing them, I just heard them; heard the gusting wind, the rattling windows, the sand hitting the metal roof on my building. And then of course I saw the aftermath the next morning, particularly the thin layer of red sand covering everything in my apartment despite the fact that all the doors and windows were closed during the haboob.

One of these nighttime haboobs, however, was more impressive than the rest. I was successfully awaken around 5 in the morning by the sound not only of wind but also, rain (commonly accompanies haboobs), thunder, and lightning. And it was an awful good thing that I was was. Because not long after I woke up, I began to feel large gusts of wind blowing in my direction. And as I was certain that I had not left any of the windows open, that did not seem normal. For a while I ignored it and stayed in bed. But then I happened to notice that the curtain on one of the windows on the other side of room was blowing out of control. Something was clearly wrong.

So, I got out of bed and made my way across the room in the dark. And it's a good thing I did. I discovered that the glass, which had simply been glued into the window frame, had become detached on three of four sides and was blowing back and forth in the frame. So, before it could blow out entirely and shatter into a million pieces, I grabbed the glass, pulled it out of the frame, set it aside, and went back to bed.

This, however, meant that I now had an open window. And, I can tell you, an open window in a haboob is not a good thing. Thus, unsurprisingly, by the time the haboob stopped, that corner of the apartment was covered in a layer of wet sand. And, I had to wait an entire week for the glass to be replaced, which meant needing to mop up sand every day during that week!

Although far less dramatic, it is also worth noting that that one night of rain succeeded in completely flooding one of the streets near my apartment building. In fact, it was largely impassable by foot for the better part of a week.

Under Attack?

No information. And boredom. Together, these two concepts sum up my experience with the rebel attack on Khartoum two weeks ago.

On the afternoon of Saturday May 10, 2008, I had absolutely no idea that rebels from Darfurian rebel group, the Justice and Equality Movement, had advanced on Khartoum. I didn't know that they had clashed with the government 200 kilometers outside of town and had made it all the way to Omdurman, Khartoum's twin city on the other side of the Nile.

Ok, so I had heard at a European Commission party on Friday night that some people had received a security warning by email advising that they restrict their movements, but they were all still at the party, so it couldn't be that big of a deal. Right? And personally I hadn't checked my work email since Thursday evening. Moreover, I hadn't been watching the news because my satellite had been down, due to some construction work being done on the roof of my building. So, oblivious as I was, I went about my day as normal, doing chores and planning my evening's activities. Then, at around six-thirty, I got a call from my friend Joel, who I was planning to meet for dinner. And he says that he just heard on CNN that there is fighting between the JEM and the military outside of Khartoum. This is all he knows. But, because everything seems normal where we are, we decide that we will go ahead and meet for dinner anyway.

Some time passes, and at approximately 7, I get a second call from Joel. Apparently he has been trying to get a taxi and the streets are desserted. So he goes to the Meridian Hotel and asks what's going on. They tell him that many people have been killed and that he should stay put. So much for dinner... But we still don't really know what's going on.

It isn't until much later in the evening that I finally get some useful information from my boss, Massimo. Apparently, Massimo had been trying to call for several hours but could not get through. The information is still vague, but at least it's something. It's from Massimo that I learn that a curfew has been imposed and will be in effect until 10am the next morning. I'm not to leave the house.

At 9:55am on Sunday morning, I receive a call saying that the curfew will remain in effect indefinitely. At this point I'm going stir crazy. I don't have internet access, I don't have TV, I'm all alone in my studio apartment, and about the only thing I can do is read my book. Oh, and to top it off, I've run out of cooking gas, so I can't even make myself something to eat! I was actually wishing I had my UNDP computer with me so that I could at least do some work. So when I hear at 1:30pm that the curfew has been lifted, the first thing I think of doing is going to the office to collect my computer so that I can spend the afternoon productively. But a few minutes after leaving the house to find a taxi, I get another call saying that there are still a number of military checkpoints between my house and the office, and I should just stay put.

Ok fine. I guess.

Fortunately, by Monday morning, things seem to have calmed down. So we go to work. But a little before 11, I'm told that there has been heavy fighting in Omdurman and even a few shots fired in central Khartoum, not too far from the UNDP office. We're grounded. Not supposed to leave the office.

An hour later, we're told we can leave the office, and two hours later I'm told we have to leave the office. So off we go in a caravan, avoiding the main streets in downtown. Fortunately for me, rather than going back to my apartment, I get to go to Massimo's for a "curfew party," or more specifically, a tasty pasta lunch with five of my colleagues and Massimo's wife. This also proves to be a good opportunity to check email and news reports online.

I'm dropped off at home at 5pm. And Joel and I decide we'll try to meet up again. Pushing the limits, I know, but we were hoping for some level of normalcy. Unfortunately, it has not yet arrived. The moment we meet up, we receive a text from Massimo saying another curfew has been imposed, and we need to stay inside until 6am the next morning.

The next morning, things seem calm, and we return to the office, not sure what the day will bring. Fortunately, it proves to be a normal day and despite a continued curfew in Omdurman, the end of the crisis.

So what is the moral of this long story? I'm not sure. But it was an interesting experience. And someday I guess I can tell my grand children that I once lived in a city while it was under attack by rebels. Sure, I never saw any fighting. And really, the only effect it had on me was to make me bored out of my mind. But it's an experience.

I won't try to explain what actually happened during those three days. Rather, I leave that to the experts. If you'd like some understanding of what happened in Khartoum, please refer to the news articles below. And do so quickly, before Reuters decides to take them down.

Sudanese troops hunt for rebels in Khartoum

INTERVIEW-Turabi: Sudan rebel attack could prove positive

Darfur rebel leader vows more attacks on Khartoum

I just want to let everyone know that I am safe and sound and will write about the recent rebel attack on Khartoum very shortly. Also expect posts on "haboubs" and my recent trip to Nyala in South Darfur.

Our Peace, Our Land, Our Oil, Our Liberty

These are the words that welcome visitors to Juba International Airport in South Sudan. Sure, these words appear on a billboard for an oil company, but they do a pretty good job of summing up the political climate in this part of the country. Oil is king. And at this point, if the war between North and South Sudan flares up again, I have not doubt that oil will be at it's core.

I know that I have promised to keep this blog apolitical, mostly for personal reasons. Instead, it's supposed to be about culture, history, and geography. But it's hard to discuss South Sudan without venturing into the realm of politics.



While I will try my best to avoid politics, I think a brief bit of history is necessary. The civil war between North and South Sudan raged for nearly fifty years. The conflict began just a year after Sudan became independent from Great Britain. The country enjoyed a brief decade of peace between 1973 and 1983. But the recent war between the Government of Sudan, represented by the National Congress Party, and the Sudan People's Liberation Movement/Army (SPLM/A) endured for over 20 years, ending with the signing of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement on January 9, 2005. The CPA established a Government of National Unity for the entire country and granted Southern Sudan semi-autonomy within the country. Southern Sudan is governed by the new Government of South Sudan, which established its capitol in Juba. The President of South Sudan is also the Vice President within the Government of National Unity.

I had the opportunity to visit Juba during the first week of April 2008. I traveled with a Sudanese colleague from UNDP in Khartoum. The two of us spent 5 days in Juba meeting with UNDP colleagues, international partners, and local South Sudanese organizations. Below is a picture of Zeinab and with representatives of the South Sudan Human Rights Commission.


This was my first trip to the South, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. Juba is green, notably cooler than Khartoum at this time of year, and more socially liberal than the North. (In other words, alcohol is legal and women wear knee length skirts and even tank tops.) Below is a picture of some mangos hanging over the White Nile in Juba. You really can't beat that! The tropics in all their glory... I was also able to buy some fabulous pineapples and giant avocados. You can't get avocados in Khartoum.


At the same time, Juba is incredibly underdeveloped. When it comes down to it, Juba is basically a large village. Sure, it's undergoing massive construction, but most people still live in tukuls (round huts...the same type of huts they call agdus in Eritrea). There are only two paved roads in all of Juba, and one of them was only completed about a month before I arrived. There is limited electricity and mobile phone service, and even members of the international community live in tents. Below is the OCHA tent camp where I stayed while in Juba. If South Sudan votes to become independent in the referendum scheduled for 2011, I have no doubt that Juba will become the most underdeveloped national capitol in the world.



But I learned something important about myself while I was in Juba: lifestyle matters. And, in my case, I would be happy to give up my Western-style apartment in Khartoum, restaurants, and other modern conveniences for an occasional cold beer and the right to wear a tank top. The fact is, I was much more relaxed in Juba than I've ever felt in Khartoum.

In addition, Juba epitomizes every preconception I had about Africa when I was growing up in the US: people living in mudbrick huts, open air markets, dirt roads, abundant livestock, women carrying things on their heads, people eating on the side of the road, and aid agencies everywhere you turn. Sure, as an adult I realized that Africa has major cities and telephones and ATM machines. But it was fun to see that the Africa of my imagination exists, and exists in a place that may one day be considered a capitol city.


In fact, it seems as if much of the world already thinks of South Sudan as a separate country. There are a number of consulates and possibly even embassies in Juba. They seem quite out of place among the long-horned cattle and mud huts. The American consulate compound in Juba is huge; apparently even larger than the embassy in Khartoum. In addition, the international community (IGOs like the UN and NGOs) are building infrastructure and institutions in South Sudan as if they were building a new country. And I guess they are...just in case.


But in amongst the new, which is everywhere, you also find the old...the history of South Sudan, whether that be the local Chiefs, who still exercise considerable power in this part of the world; these fences, which are everywhere; or relics from the British empire, like this 19th century sign post, which still points to "the Belgian Congo."


I wish I had more to say about Juba, but unfortunately I spent most of my time there working. Nevertheless, I enjoyed the time I spent there. I enjoyed the people, who all seemed more than eager to introduce themselves to me and tell me about what they were doing; the children, who asked to have their pictures taken; and the optimism with which people in the South view the future.

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all of those around the world who has been reading my blog over the past year and a half. I originally started this blog in order to keep in touch with friends and family while I was traveling. But I am very pleased to see that I have attracted additional readers from 6 continents and various islands. I know I haven't been consistent about updating my blog but know that your readership keeps me motivated.

Lost in the Desert

So last weekend, three friends (Alex, Dillion, and Jade) and I headed north for another visit to Sudan's Kushite ruins. The plan was to first go back to the pyramids at Meroe (my third visit) so that Jade, who was visiting from Uganda, could see them and then to stop at the Nacqa Temple on our way back to Khartoum.

The first part of this plan was executed without problems. We drove to Meroe, ate a picnic lunch under the shade of one of the pyramids, and toured around. Dillion and Jade even engaged in a quite hysterical wrestling match on one of the sand dunes. And then, around 3, we decided to head back towards Nacqa Temple. On the way, we stopped for a soda at the Pepsi place. This also went off without a hitch.

And then we arrived at the sign pointing towards Nacqa. This is where things began to go wrong. Although the Nacqa Temple is one of the best preserved Kushite ruins in Sudan and one of Sudan's rare "tourist attractions," it's located somewhere between 20 and 35 kilometers off of the main road in the desert. And, believe it or not, there is no clear road, even a dirt road, leading there. Yes, there is a sign on the main road that points out into the desert indicating the general direction to Nacqa. And yes, there are dirt tracks that lead from there into the desert. The problem is, there are MANY dirt tracks in this part of the desert. In fact, the road probably forks at least once every kilometer. Consequently, it's pretty easy to get lost.



We had previously been told that we shouldn't try to go to Nacqa without either someone who had previously been there or a GPS. We had neither. We had also been told that even professional tour guides have been known to get lost trying to the temple. We were not worried. Armed with some general directions from a couple of different friends, we headed out into the desert.

At first, we were confident. Alex began joking about how after we found the temple, we would be able to brag to friends back in Khartoum about how easy the temple was to find. But after an hour of driving with seeing any sign of either the temple or other tourists, we began to get discouraged. Alex was the last to give up. As the driver, he decided that we should keep going, that we must be almost there. That may or may not have been correct.

Finally, around 5:30 or 6 in the evening, we ended up in this village. We actually ended up there by accident, but since we were there, I suggested that we ask for directions. So, Alex got out to ask for directions. Unfortunately, the first people we met didn't speak any English. Alex attempted to explain "temple" by drawing a sketch in the dust on the car window. This did not work. Instead, the man he was speaking to tried to give him directions to a mountain. But then we were advised that an older man in the village spoke English.



While Alex was getting directions, some of the boys and young men in the village started to surround the car. One of them came around to my side and asked me to give him a pen. I looked in my bag but couldn't find a pen. But he didn't understand that. Fortunately, Jade and Dillon found a pen in their belongings and gave them to these boys. It was an interesting experience, and I wonder just how many pens they have in this tiny village in the middle of the desert.



In any case, Alex came back to the car with what we believed to be accurate directions. These directions sent us back the way we had come and towards something we had previously seen in the distance. However, when we got back to where we had previously seen these buildings in the distance, we couldn't figure out how to get over there. And it was starting to get late. We decided that we really didn't want to be driving around in the desert in the dark, so we gave up and drove back to Khartoum.



But now we have a mission! Someday, we must make it to the Nacqa Temple. And maybe next time, we'll take others' advice and go with a GPS, a guide, or at least better directions!!!

Images of Khartoum

As many of you are already aware, in my option, Khartoum is not a particularly picturesque city. It's flat, crowded, and dusty and doesn't have a lot of trees or flowers. Moreover, the city doesn't do a particularly good job of keeping it's streets clean. So, a permanent layer of garbage adorns many of Khartoum's sidewalks. (The picture to the left was taken from the balcony of my old apartment in central Khartoum.)

Sure, the Nile's quite nice, both the water itself and the buildings and vegetation that line its banks. But other than that, I don't think Khartoum is a particularly attractive. Indeed, the most attractive part of a city may be the colorful and vibrantly patterned pieces of fabric in which Sudanese women drape themselves.



This having been said, some of the best views I've gotten of Khartoum have been from the roof of my friend Elaine's apartment building. She lives in Khartoum 2, one of the greenest parts of the city. Although some of the newer neighborhoods like Riad and Manshiya (located on the opposite side of the airport from Khartoum 2...yes, Khartoum has an airport in the middle of the city) are probably wealthier and have a number of beautiful houses, they seem much drier and dustier than Khartoum 2 and Amarat because they lack vegetation.



In any case, because I happen to like the view and that part of town, I thought I'd share a few photos taken from Elaine's roof.







Above is the new Libyan hotel, affectionately known as Qadafi's egg.

And just to show a little contrast, below is another picture taken from the balcony of my old apartment. I have recently moved to Amarat because my housemate was transferred to El Geneina in West Darfur, and I couldn't afford to live in a two bedroom by myself. But, I haven't had time to take photos from my new place yet. Soon...

I love how my computer thinks I live in Norway. Any thoughts on why that might be?