Jubalicious?! Uh, not quite.

For three years now, I've been hearing from Francis about the challenges of Southern Sudan, not the least of which is the horrible state of Juba, its capitol city. Usually any discussion of Juba concludes that it's a "trainwreck" with horrible roads, a complete lack of hospitality-industry amenities, and utterly non-sensical public services. Well, he certainly didn't sugarcoat anything, but whether it's the inevitability of time and billions of dollars in donor money, or just a more forgiving interpretation through my slightly less jaded eyes, Juba isn't quite the dump I expected it to be.


The roads are terrible; like beyond-words terrible. It is something that you really have to experience to understand. The best description I can think of is that they remind me of moguls in skiing--an endless stretch of undulations. There is the occasional SUV-sized pothole, but usually previous travelers have already carved out a path around this huge pit, turning otherwise straight roads into winding paths. Each time we drive on the roads, I'm afraid that I'm going to break the seat belt or else it is going to slice my neck open. Lest any readers include people working on Juba's infrastructure, on the positive side, Francis has been amazed at how many more roads have been paved since his last trip (late spring 2009). There's still, though, LOTS of room for improvement.


In terms of Juba's hospitality industry, I don't have too much of a reference group, but from what I understand, we are staying in one of the nicest places (a camp with little cottages), right on the Nile. And it is nice and safe, and has above-average food. But the Ritz it is not, despite a $200+ per-night price tag. Most of the places in town are hotels made from shipping containers (think train boxcars), less-than-structurally-sound motels, and (literally) tents. Again, the silver lining which Francis did not tell me about is a growing restaurant industry. Tonight we went to an exquisitely decorated restaurant serving both Chinese and pizza--Francis had the former and I the latter, and both were VERY good. There are rumors of a good steak place in town that we're hoping to check out sometime soon. Again, considering this is a capitol city, the pickings are horribly slim, but there are options beyond the buffet offered by the camp.





I certainly haven't been in the country long enough to speak about the general state of public services, but I have started the process of applying for a driver's license, so I can speak to that. Guys, if you think the DMV/Secretary of State is bad, think again. Sure, there is undoubtedly a wait, but there is generally some published information (online or in the waiting area) that tells you which documents you need, how much it will cost, when you can expect to receive your license, etc. Not so in Southern Sudan. The process first started in a little unmarked tin building; we waited in line to learn that presenting our actual passports and drivers licenses wasn't acceptable; we needed copies. Once copies were made, we paid $10 each just to get an application. We were then sent out to talk to the director (of what, I don't know) who informed us that before we could get his stamp (for a mere $250) we actually needed to go 2 miles away to the hospital to have the chief medical officer transcribe the blood type from our Red Cross cards onto the form. [The medical officer was gone for the the weekend when we arrived at 2pm on Friday, so we'll find out on Monday how much money that step costs]. We've been told that other steps in the application process MAY include an interview, driving test, and having the form entered into the computer with fees up to another $100, but none of this has been made exactly clear. I'm praying that no driving test is required--95% of the vehicles here (including those for Francis' project) are stick-shift--though I have practiced in Juba's learners' lot just in case... Anyway, if this is any indication of the inefficiencies and costliness in dealing with the Sudanese public sector, it's going to be challenging to say the least.


So, I started this posting by saying that Juba "isn't the dump I expected it to be." It's true that most of the things Francis warned me about aren't quite as bad as he'd prepared me for. What he didn't tell me about, though, is that Juba is covered in trash--it is literally a dump. Now, I've been to other developing countries before, so I've seen my fair share of trash. But this is unlike anything I've ever seen. Everywhere you look, there are water bottles, cans, broken pottery, and blue and white striped shopping bags--filling potholes in the road, along fence lines, floating in every body of water. As far as I can tell, there is absolutely no means of dealing with trash in Juba, and so it just accumulates wherever people leave it. Some of the larger piles are burned; goats and dogs rummage for any edible scraps in the rest. But largely it just sits there. Now, I know I'm not the first person to realize this is a problem because the other day I spotted a trash barrel in town encouraging people to "Keep Juba Clean". I think it's too late, folks. Juba is dirty. Period. The only blessing is that electronic equipment and appliances are scarce enough and valuable enough that they haven't yet made it to Juba's street-side garbage heaps.

There are many, many stories to tell, but not nearly enough time (or rather patience on my part). Maybe someday over a nice glass of wine... Also, there are many, many scenes I'd like to capture, but the Sudanese (especially in Juba) are very suspcious of photographers and so you'll have to just settle for the few shots I get or come to visit me to see for yourself...

And so instead, I'll leave you with a few random thoughts:

• The Nile is large and very fast-moving, but pales in comparison to the vastness of the Amazon. Maybe it's larger 3000 miles north, nearer it's mouth?


• Lizards (I think these creatures are too large to be called geckos) are everywhere, clinging to walls, on trees, camoflaged on fence posts, and they scare me. I think there was one in our air conditioner the other day while I was in the room alone; I was not amused.


• Some body language is universal. For example, raising ones' eyebrows. In applying for drivers licenses, two different officers asked whether I wanted to get a license. When I told them "yes", I got back a sly grin and raised eyebrows...


• Most of the school-age kids I've seen here do wear shoes. Not always a matching pair, but most have flipflops, mary janes, loafers, or some combination of these covering their feet.


• The crash of mangoes falling on a tin roof is initially unsettling, but can eventually just blend into the background. The crash of mangoes falling on a solar water heater; now, that's something else.

A casualty of falling mangoes; thankfully, we still manage to have hot water for showers.