Our First (Kapoeta) Christmas

When it’s consistently 90 degrees outside and you live in a place where people can’t afford even the cheapest holiday decorations (and you have no house in which to unpack your decorations), Christmas has a way of sneaking up on you. But, as the world over, Christmas did come to Kapoeta, and Francis and I made the most of our first Christmas as a family.

On Christmas Eve, we spent the morning at our still-empty house. I was determined that I’d wake up Christmas morning to a hot shower, something other than crepes for breakfast, and to some place that felt a little more like home. So, we set up an air mattress and the camping stove, and pulled out the small box of Christmas decorations that we’d sent from the States. While I hung our stockings and some ornaments from the still-empty curtain rods, Francis scavenged the brush pile for a suitable Christmas tree [he opted for what he later identified as a Desert Date—it did have thorns, but not nearly as many as some of the other options]. Later in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, we were invited to have snacks at the house of an American missionary couple [they are about the same age as us and have three little boys. Though our paths have seldom crossed since we arrived in town, the wife and I have exchanged many emails over the last few months. She really is a kindred spirit (alleluia!) and so I’m sure you’ll hear more about her in future posts.] Though not exactly a traditional Christmas gathering (there was pepperoni pizza, beefy cheese dip, and fudgy brownies!), it was so nice to commiserate with others who are craving some of the same American goodies that I miss, experimenting with gardening, and (even more importantly) struggling with the reality of being someone who “has” in a land of “have-nots”.

[Pictures: my attempt at decorating an unfurnished house; gifts for the American boys (poptarts in bubble wrap]



As advertised, we woke up Christmas morning in our new house, though not without some glitches. First off, the air mattress that we had borrowed had sprung a slow leak, and so we woke up at 4am essentially sleeping on the tile floor. Around that same time, we realized that even the nighttime in Kapoeta is hot—we’d shut off the generator (and thus the air-conditioner and any fans) at bedtime, but the house still managed to absorb heat. I re-inflated the mattress while Francis turned on the generator, and we went back to sleep for a bit before Francis was awakened because one of the compound guards hadn’t shown up for duty. When he returned from handling that situation, we had our first meal in our new house (cereal, juice, and some bread made by my new friend), and opened cards and presents. Then we headed for church. Now, as I’ve previously reported, Mass is typically 2 hours long because everything is done in 2 languages, and so I’d prepared myself for an extended service. We arrived to the church 20 minutes early to find it 75% full—it was 100% over capacity by the time mass started and there were even more people outside the church when we left. I was at first embarrassed when we were ushered to the VIP seats (plastic Africa chairs on the side facing the altar, rather than the typical backless wooden benches), but realized it was a blessing after sitting through a nearly 3-hour service (plus, it provided an excellent view for people-watching). The church itself had what I think were the only Christmas decorations in town (if you don’t count my imported stash)—a 3’ fake tree with some lights and lots of foil decorations on the altar, and prayer-flag-type streamers strung throughout. I was slightly disappointed that there wasn’t the pageantry and costumes that I was warned about. But it wasn’t without excitement. Mass was interrupted at one point by a parade of people marching (and singing) through the back of the church. There was a crazy old man wrapped in a mosquito bed-net who regularly stood right in front of the alter waving his (only) arm and admonishing little kids to be quiet. In the middle of the homily, the priest led the (predominantly non-English-speaking) congregation in a rousing rendition of “Number one, Jesus is number one...”. And announcements included 30+ minutes of speeches from politicians (and political hopefuls) who were back in their home district for the holiday, and eager to talk to their constituents, many of whom I’d imagine rarely make it into town. After mass, we visited some friends at the Pentecostal mission (they fed 500+ people after their Christmas service), made phone calls to the family (our Christmas night; their late-morning), and then joined the same friends at the safari camp for a turkey dinner (which was very juicy but served, of course, with French fries, rice, and a bean medley).




The day after Christmas (Boxing Day, as our British friends call it) was our first anniversary. We headed back over to our house, fired up the generator, and had a lovely day simply relaxing. I’d gotten Francis a book on East African trees, and so he spent the better part of the day identifying which species we have on our compound. I caught up on some of the news (via podcast) and cross-stitched. In the evening, we made dinner on the campstove (couscous with artichoke pesto and sundried-tomatoes). It’s amazing how quickly a year goes by, but also how much can change in just one year!

[Pictures: This year and last]



Thank you to everyone who has sent holiday and anniversary well-wishes, particularly since I’ve been delinquent in sending any sort of Christmas greeting (electronic or otherwise). My New Year’s resolution: to do better. Enjoy the winter weather for me!

News from Kapoeta

There hasn't been much of note going on recently, and so I thought I'd report some of my observations of the mundane, Garrison-Keilor-style. Here goes ...


It's been a quiet week in Kapoeta, my (new) hometown at the edge of the dry savannah.


The November rains have finally come-albeit a little late-providing some respite from the heat and greening the landscape. While most of the rains have been occasional mid-day sprinkles, on Friday there was a heavy downpour. I'm not sure if it was the impact of the raindrops on the earth or steam from cool rain hitting soil, but all of Kapoeta was blanketed with a white, misty fog; it's as close to snow as this town gets. Within an hour, the usually dry and passable riverbed was full of rushing water, impassable to all but the intrepid (or foolish) for the next 5 hours. (To get a sense of these river crossings, I've posted a picture of one of my favorites on the drive to Loki.)a white, misty fog; it’s as close to snow as this town gets. Within an hour, the usually dry and passable riverbed was full of rushing water, impassable to all but the intrepid (or foolish) for the next 5 hours. (To get a sense of these river crossings, I’ve posted a picture of one of my favorites on the drive to Loki.)


On Sunday at the Catholic Church, the Toposa lector for the first reading was a middle age woman, straight out of the bush. Now, St. Mary's Catholic Church in Kapoeta is no stranger to topless women, but this was the first I'd seen of it at the lectern. This lector also doubled as a liturgical dancer, standing up in the center aisle anytime music was played, occasional sashaying over to dance in front of the choir or right in front of the alter. While I'd been told that music is a key part of Toposa culture, this was the first I'd witnessed dancing, mostly swaying and bopping to the drum beat, and occasionally rotating shoulders and arms so that the arm bands with 2 'long grass tassels would flip up over and around the dancer's biceps. Later in the week I passed an entire troupe of dancers, presumably practicing for Christmas festivities.


Christmas is a big deal in Kapoeta. There are no visible signs to mark its coming, no light strands or tacky lawn displays; not even an advent wreath in the church. However, its coming is palpable in the air. In town, I've noticed more people wearing new wraps, the clean material striking in dust-coated world. Many of the shops in town have new stocks of thin linoleum to be rolled out on the dirt floor of a tukul. The atmosphere at the worksite reminds me of May in high school, anticipating the end of the school year. All of the boys are itching to be done, talking about their holiday travel plans to see their mothers, scheming about ways that they might be able to skip out early. Francis and I have begun distributing Christmas cards to some of the regular workers. While I can't say it is the first time they've received a Christmas card, the look on their face after receiving an envelope with their name written on it reveals that this is certainly not an everyday occurrence for them.


Christmas came a little early for the Mills family this year. Our shipment of personal effects arrived from the US on Monday. Since the contractor is still making repairs in the house and we don't yet have shelves to unpack the boxes onto, most of the things have remained wrapped in their packing. We have pulled out the CD case to start playing some Christmas tunes, though (I think part of my malaise has been due to a lack of music) and I've identified some of the boxes that we'll want to have access to in order to celebrate Christmas. Now that our camping gear has arrived, even if we don't have furniture, we intend to wake up in our house on Christmas morning.


With each passing day, the house gets closer to being moved into. On Tuesday they fixed the shower, and so I was able to take my first flip-flop-free, hot-water shower in Kapoeta. It was heavenly. The garden out back is also going full-tilt. Peter and I transplanted the tomatoes on Wednesday. I tried to get him to give some of the extra plants to the workers, but he insisted that I transplant all 50 + plants, noting that no one else has ready access to water to keep them thriving. Seeing his point, I reluctantly agreed; even if I give all of the workers tomatoes, something tells me I may still have enough to set up a vegetable stand.


Well, that's the news from Kapoeta, where the women are poised, the men are often absent, and the children are all half-naked.

Going Full Circle after 2 Months

The return trip to Kapoeta from Nepal brought us full circle, both literally and figuratively. Unexpected events (namely, the bank in Juba having no money to dispense) meant that rather than doing our grocery shopping in Nairobi, we instead had to go to Kampala (Uganda) and return to Kapoeta via Juba—the route that we had taken when we first arrived in Africa two months ago.

Though our stay in Nairobi was briefer than expected, there happened to be a shopping mall right across the street from our hotel, so we had an opportunity to explore what they had to offer. I think it is fair to say that, with the exception of logic puzzle books, everything you could want is available in Nairobi, as long as you are willing to pay for it. From Philadelphia cream cheese and pine nuts to muzungu cream (sunscreen) and meat thermometers, Nairobi has many of the luxury items that Kampala lacks. But they don’t come cheap! As an example, a pop-can-size tub of Green & Blacks Cocoa (likely $6 max in Whole Foods) was on sale for $70!!! Can you imagine?! Madness!! Knowing that it would be 4 or 5 days before getting to a fridge in Kapoeta, we passed up the opportunity to buy the cream cheese, but we did indulge ourselves at a bookstore (Francis opting for books on home wiring while I went for one put out by the Kenyan Horticulture Society on Gardening in East Africa and a couple local-interest novels).

Arriving in the Entebbe (Kampala, Uganda) airport, I was amazed at what a difference 2 months had made. Rather than feeling paranoid that I’d get robbed (Kampala isn’t unsafe, the airport is just busy when a plane arrives) or painstakingly avoiding eye contact with people in uniform, I felt much more at ease and much less overwhelmed. Driving into town, it was nice to recognize landmarks, make informed choices about where we might have dinner, know where to head to begin my shopping. Because I knew what to expect, it was much easier to enjoy myself. I was amused to find Christmas music blasting through the loudspeakers at each of the supermarkets and a wide variety of Christmas cards to choose from (oddly, they were certainly straight from the US, all showing images of snow-covered rooftops, candycanes, and large-steepled churches).

Laden with 60kilos of groceries and a cooler full of dairy products, we headed for the airport to fly to Juba. There was a bit of drama trying to get our cooler on the plane, but after paying to have it shrink-wrapped, we were pleased to find that it made it in one piece to Juba and that the Juba luggage inspectors at the other end let it into the country without a hitch. I savored the hot shower in Juba before getting into another tiny 10-seater UN airplane to fly to Kapoeta (this particular plane made a few more scary creaky noises than the first plane we took on November 12th).

Landing in Kapoeta, again, it felt almost routine. I knew that there would be a huge crowd to greet us, that the police would require us to open up our bags right there on the airfield (it isn’t like there is a building). I knew that when we got to the safari camp, that there would be ants (thankfully, fewer than before), no hot water, and decent-tasting though monotonous food. Despite still living out of a suitcase and having very little of our own things at hand, there are times when Kapoeta does feel like it is our home. Thus, I’m sure that with time, the arrival of furniture, and once I’ve made some friends, there will indeed be a time when I’ll feel like a resident and not just a long-term visitor.

As an aside, I know I’ve been pretty Negative Nancy recently about the delay of our personal effects and the furniture/appliances that we bought in Kampala. There’s been more than once that I’ve contemplated bailing from this adventure. But a very understanding and loving husband, and some happy events have made even this state of dusty, uncomfortable limbo bearable.
Happiness #1: Mail. I sort of remember the overwhelming joy I felt as a child when I would get something in the mail—perhaps a birthday card or a letter from my penpal or a magazine. The typical mail of adulthood—unsolicited catalogs and bills—have a way, though, of diluting the postal experience. Sudan has helped me regain the joy that is stamped mail. While in Kampala, one of Francis’ colleagues gave us our first batch of mail. Magazines, cards, and even the occasional bill, were like little Christmas packages—it was all I could do to resist the urge to stay up all night reading. However, if it takes 2 months to accumulate that amount, I know that I need to pace myself. The care-packages sent by our families and out-of-the-blue emails and messages from others further lift our spirits. Thank you all!
Happiness #2: Work. Though I am still looking for a job in the local community, I am so happy to have been asked by former colleagues to help recruit people to review proposals for science funding. Though I’ve been working A LOT for Francis, it has all been as an unofficial volunteer and mostly because I’d go crazy if I just sat around all day and read. It is psychologically very good for me to be accountable to someone/something outside my household, and it makes me feel like I’m participating in the outside world, even if only over an (unreliable) internet connection.

A Nepali Wedding

I’ve been looking forward to this trip to Nepal for a long time. Our friends (Francis’ Nepali co-worker and her American fiancé) got engaged around the same time we did, and when they told us they would be having a wedding in Nepal, we had initially planned to attend and stay for a couple of extra weeks to hike the Himalayas as our own honeymoon. Francis’ accident made the honeymoon impractical (though no longer limping, he’s not yet 100%; plus, we need to get back to Sudan to prepare to move into our house!), but we still couldn’t pass up an opportunity to be introduced to Nepal by a local and to experience a Nepali wedding. Though such high expections are often danger, Nepal lived up to our dreams and it was well-worth the journey.

Nepal is a very friendly place. Not only were our hosts incredibly gracious (we got no less than 3 welcome scarves—similar idea to a lei), but as the French lady behind us in the immigration line noted, “there is a certain zen” to Nepal. Throughout our whole stay, we were really treated like guests of honor, though that treatment should have been reserved for the groom and his family. We were given front row seats at the wedding ceremony and given guided tours of Kathmandu’s highlights by the bride, her uncle, and her sister.

Nepal is steeped in religion and ritual. The west part of Nepal is the birthplace of Buddhism, and it’s impossible to go more than a block or two without coming across a temple or other place for worship, at least in part because Buddhists’ homes are built around courtyards featuring these religious shrines. This was my first visit to Asia and actually my first visit to a non-Christian country, and I was surprised at how very different it felt to anyplace I’ve ever been before—from stupa (religious pillars) to prayer wheels (cylinders lined up around temples that you spin) to statues of Buddha and Hindu prophets. Similarly new and exciting was witnessing a Newari (one of the tribes within Nepal) wedding. The wedding was actually 3 different events (and would have been many more if the groom were also Nepali). The first was the wedding ceremony in which the bride’s father and a priest were the primary actors. After they prayed together, the bride and groom joined them and offered similar prayers. The next event was the reception attended by the bride’s family and friends. Much like American weddings, there was lots of food and music, and the primary actor was the bride who sat on a couch where she was greeted by guests as they entered. The final event (held the following night) was at the bride’s parents’ home where the family formally welcomed the groom into the family. This evening was all about food, with 30+ dishes (traditionally, 84) being served to the groom and his guests.

[Pictures: 1) wedding ceremony, 2) Francis at the Monkey Temple, 3) Sarah in Durbar Square, 4) One of many Monkeys at the Monkey Temple]

Nepal is absolutely beautiful. The bulk of our time was spent in the Kathmandu Valley which would definitely be classified as urban. Given that Nepal is a developing country, I was pleasantly surprised to find a city full of mostly permanent structures (i.e. not mud and grass). I was even more surprised to find some of the most intricate wood-carving (on windows, doors, and eaves) that I have ever seen. Nepal, though, isn’t known for Kathmandu, but rather for the Himalayan Mountains that make up the bulk of the country’s land area. Because of early-winter fog/haze and a ring of large foothills that circle Kathmandu, we couldn’t actually see the mountains from the city. We did, however, take a mountain flight, and as soon as our tiny 16-seat plane broke through the clouds, white-capped mountains extended as far as the eye could see. Having never really seen big mountains before, it’s still difficult for me to fathom how big these mountains are, and it’s not like there are houses or even trees to provide some sense of scale. Most of the big peaks are 24,000-26,000 feet (Mt. Everest is 28,000 feet), compared to the Rocky Mountains’ 14,000-15,000 feet. [Everest is the peak in the middle of the picture] I think I need so do some hiking around them (or at least standing at the feet of them) to really get it. What I could fathom and found just as beautiful as the mammoth mountains were the inhabited foothills. The only way to make agriculture viable on such terrain is through terraced agriculture, and from the sky, these “steps” look like a real-life topographic map. I need to go back to Nepal when there are clearer skies so I can get a better picture, but even thinking about the image in my mind makes me smile.

In more ways than one, Nepal was a lovely break from Sudan. I was so happy to be in a place that required wearing a sweater (though in the mid-day sun, I was happy I had layered!), and Francis was thrilled to eat all sorts of spicy food. On a couple, occasions, though, Nepal felt a bit like our new home. While we were touring the Golden Temple in Patan, a little girl squatted right in the middle of the courtyard and proceeded to go to the bathroom, so much like the children of Kapoeta pooping on the side of the road. It also didn’t faze me when the power would go out for hours at a time—Nepal is dependent upon hydropower, and outside of monsoon season, they have rolling blackouts.

All in all it was a lovely trip, and I look forward to going back someday soon (it’s certainly not handicapped accessible, so it’s not something to leave to old age!).

A Heroic Journey from Kapoeta to Kathmandu

I have received more than a couple concerned emails wondering about the lack of posts for the past two weeks. As I mentioned in my Thanksgiving post, for the week of Thanksgiving, we had little to no internet connection. Then, the day after Thanksgiving, we began what can only be described as a heroic journey to attend the wedding of a friend in Nepal.

I’ve alluded to this Nepal trip previously, but had been purposely vague with details because, to be honest, our travel plans really weren’t set until we actually got on the road. The reason: we were waiting for the Indian Consulate in Juba to issue our transit visas and return our passports so that we could leave Sudan to begin our journey. We had hoped that the Indian visas would be issued earlier Thanksgiving week so that they could be couriered to us by Francis’ colleague on his way back to Kapoeta. When he showed up on Thanksgiving, though, without our passports in hand, the only option for us was to hop in the truck and drive to Juba (waiting for the next plane would have made us 2 days late for the wedding).

As I’ve mentioned before, the condition of the roads in Southern Sudan is indescribable. In the absence of any radio stations to entertain us throughout our journey, I instead compiled the following statistics in hopes of trying to illustrate what we experienced:

Distance traveled: 290 km (180 miles)
Elapsed time: 9 hours
Average speed: 32 kph or 20 mph (about 15 mph faster than possible during rainy season or probably wise)
River crossings: 38 (about half of these were on wooden bridges. For the rest, the road led directly across the riverbed. Thankfully, it’s a dry season and so 4WD was only required twice.)
Herds of beasts blocking our travel path: 11 (roughly equal numbers of goats and steers)
Armored tanks rusting on the side of the road: 3 (likely many more were present, but camouflaged in the weeds)
Monkeys!: 10 (some are probably better described as baboons)
Times my head hit truck ceiling: 5 (even though I was wearing my seatbelt)

For people planning to take this journey in the future, a couple helpful tips to make your journey more comfortable:
1. Drivers and passengers alike my wish to consider drinking before taking the journey to relax your muscles. Careful, though; there are no flush toilets along the way.
2. While a motorcycle helmet would be overkill (and hot!) a Green Bay Cheese Head or similarly padded cap is recommended.
3. Ladies, do yourselves a favor and wear a sports bra.

So, at the end of the 9-hour Leg 1, we arrived in Juba on Friday night. By the time we arrived, I was so exhausted that I had completely forgotten that I was SERIOUSLY craving ice cream after 3 weeks without, and instead passed out at a Juba hotel (I woke up with some sort of rash all over my left arm which can’t be directly linked to the hotel, but we can’t come up with any other explanation than some sort of bed bug—yuck!). Since our visas had thankfully been issued on Friday, we were able to continue on our journey on Saturday. Leg 2 involved taking a normal-sized airplane to Nairobi, where we checked into what looked to me like one of the world’s most beautiful hotels. Now, since I’ve been roughing it in Sudan for over a month, it is very possible that even a Days Inn in Peoria would look luxurious (hot water! Air conditioning! A padded desk chair!). However, the Fairview Hotel in Nairobi really is a beautiful place with pretty gardens, lots of wood paneling, and five restaurants including a wine bar, pizza kitchen, and ice cream parlor! We spent most of Saturday and Sunday basking in the glories of a place without dust, eating all of the fresh veggies and dairy that was so lacking in Sudan, and catching up on work (Francis) and preparing a couple job applications (me).

On Sunday afternoon we headed for the Nairobi airport for the final 3 legs of our journey that would take us through 4 national capitols in 24 hours. Leg 3 was a flight from Nairobi to Addis Ababa (Ethiopia). The hub for Ethiopian Air was actually much nicer than I expected, with a terminal that couldn’t be more than 10 years old. The real surprise was that there were no periodicals (magazines/newspapers) available ANYWHERE in the airport—even the Juba airport sells newspapers! Leg 4 was an overnight flight (6 hrs) from Addis to Delhi (India). It was a good thing that we got the transit visas because it bought us a stay in the main terminal rather than Indian Purgatory, the transit lounge where we were trapped on our return trip. I think this is the appropriate place to insert that, though I am generally eager to travel to almost anyplace (hello—I live in Sudan!), this trip has completely turned me off to India. Not only did we have troubles getting (expensive and ridiculous) transit visas and suffer the isolation of purgatory, the Delhi airport also has a ridiculous baggage screening process (the baggage screeners didn’t put a tag on my purse which I learned was necessary right before we boarded the plane, so I had to return to the xray machines and go through a full-body pat down all over again). Additionally, the airport has the loudest and most obnoxious announcements (a final boarding call for each flight was given about 15 times) , especially when heard at 2am. Alright, back to the journey. The final and 5th Leg was from Delhi to Kathmandu (Nepal). There is so much to tell of Nepal, that it deserves its own post.

Random take-aways from the journey:
1. Nairobi is a great introduction to Africa or “Africa-Lite”; international standard creature comforts, mostly English-speaking, beautifully green.

2. Logic puzzles must be an American thing. I had complete the GAMES puzzle magazine that Francis found for me (and completely got hooked on the “paint by numbers” puzzles), and have looked everywhere for another, but to no avail. Books of crossword puzzles or Sudoku are available, but no logic puzzles. Sadness.

3. India sucks.