Since I'm not much of a photographer, let alone a videographer, it's been tough to share with you the sights and sounds of life in Kapoeta. Today, I turned up this short video from Voice of America that at least starts to capture some of the more festive scenes from our town. The first 30 seconds and the last 15 seconds or so were filmed here during the power plant inauguration. The rest (wherever you see green trees!) is not here--some of it is Juba and the rest is mostly filmed along the main highway running from Uganda to Juba.



In the video, keep an eye out for:
1) in the openning dance scene, the ladies to the right (not dancing) with leaf-green outfits are wearing goat skins covered with beads.
2) a white guy in a tan hat in the scene in the power station; Francis' 2 seconds of web-video fame
3) the ostrich feathers and leopard skins on the heads and backs, respectively, of the Toposa male dancers at the end -- I totally forgot to mention that before. I can't believe that big cats once roamed Toposaland!

In other news, I'm keeping busy doing some consulting jobs for my last two employers while I wait on an answer from the state about starting the town survey/mapping project. This last week has seen us post new record highs and lows on the weather station: daytime high of 107.6 and nighttime low of 63. I love the cold and the fact that it made us put a blanket on the bed for the first time EVER in Sudan! Our friends have graciously arranged for getting us cereal, cheese, and chocolate--the essentials which are, sadly, unavailable in Kapoeta. Our last grocery shopping trip was in early December and we won't be back in the land of supermarkets until late March--yikes!

Alright, I think that's it for now. Back to the grind I go...

As Mother B likes to say, it's hotter than blazes...

Things continue to move along here. This past weekend was a milestone as the power plant was officially inaugurated (google "Kapoeta" and "electricity" for news reports--there's a bunch). We had the US Consul General (like the Ambassador for South Sudan--the #1 State Department guy in the country) and the governor here, along with about 2,000 community members. It went well--everyone seemed happy--but it was exhausting. I'm glad that everyone is gone, and Francis is happy to get back to the work of hooking up new customers.

On the eve of the inauguration, I was summoned to the house of the governor--more than a little intimidating! He asked me if I would be interested in doing a survey of the roads in town, and then creating a town plan so that plots can be demarkated and sold to people since right now no one really owns their land. I'm currently working on a proposal for him, and am thrilled about the opportunity to finally do something that puts my engineering skills to work in Sudan (well, at least for pay)! If it all works out, I know it will be long hours and will undoubtedly put me in the middle of some political quagmires, but it would be a great stepping stone for what I hope will be a change in careeer path following our time here.

The real reason that I sat down to write is to report on the weather. So, I have long written about it being hot and dry, but without proper instrumentation, I haven't been able to explain exactly how hot or dry. Our recent shipment of mail (this is the first mail drop since mid-October!) included a weather station. As I type, the outdoor sensor (placed in the shade) is reading 104.7 degrees F and 2% humidity. I didn't even know that 2% humidity was possible! Inside, we are at a rather balmy 92 degrees with 15% humidity. And the funny thing is, I'm so used to this now, that I'm not even sweating! While I'm sure that it would be extremely detrimental to my health to go directly from this to the frozen winter wonderland that you are all experiencing in the States, I do wish dearly for some snow...

So that is all for now. I'll keep my eye on the weather station and post if any records are broken. Hope you all stay warm...

The Times, They are a Changin’

The last couple of weeks not only have seen the first days of a new decade. They have also brought with them lots of changes our lives here in Kapoeta.

Francis and I threw a New Years party, complete with party hats and horns, for the few foreigners who remained in Kapoeta through the holidays. We decided on a brunch, though, since we were otherwise occupied on New Years Eve, being the first night that the streetlights were turned on in Kapoeta. The county commissioner (head of the local government) switched on the diesel generator, threw the master switch, and then we drove around town in trucks to watch the streetlights come on as the sun set. The commissioner and Francis’ employees threw mini rallies under the lights, shouting out political slogans (“SPLM oye; Referendum oye”). After over a year of living here, it was great to finally see it up and operational, but now the hard part begins—building capacity to maintain the system and operate the utility.

The new year also saw a departure of Peter, the man who had served as my gardener and our nighttime guard since we arrived. When I hired him, Peter had told me that he wanted to go back to Kenya to get his highschool diploma (though Sudanese, nearly everyone with an education here studied in refugee camps in Kenya or Uganda during the war). I did what I could to keep him prepared; I required that he keep detailed records of his gardening activities, made him calculate areas when planting grass, set up a “chemistry lab” for soil testing, and passed on lots of books and magazines for him to read. …and sure enough, he kept to his word, leaving for school just before Christmas. His departure was both happy and sad: he left with some of the kindest words I have ever heard from the Sudanese, planted sunflowers in the garden so that I would think of him when I saw them, but he leaves behind big shoes to fill. I’m certain it was God who sent Peter here when we arrived last year, knowing that I wasn’t prepared to deal with staffing issues that plague nearly every organization here.

And finally, yesterday marked a new day for Southern Sudan. After 6 years of living under the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA), southerners finally saw the day in which they could go to the polls to decide whether they will stay united with the North, or separate to form their own country. Voting will actually continue all of this week, and it will likely be a couple weeks before all of the ballots are counted, but this is a huge step. Though there were fears that there would be violence preventing a vote, at least in Kapoeta there has been peace (I haven’t been out of the compound today to learn if the same was true throughout the country).

So, those are the major things to report. I continue to look for a job here, Francis continues on with “bringing power to the people”, and together we deal with what life brings us. Among our most recent gifts: a broken washing machine (awaiting parts from the US), a broken AC unit (requiring total replacement from Kenya), but also a Catholic lectionary and song book in Toposa (from a very nice seminarian). We think often of our family and friends, and thank God that we are doing this together.

Gorillas in the Mud

After a long hiatus, I’m back. Well, sorta. I’m still working on grad school applications, volunteering for Francis’ project, and trying to make this second Kapoeta Christmas nice (e.g. I’ve bought fabric to make a tablecloth for Christmas dinner). Needless to say, there might not be another post until January. But given the extraordinary nature of our recent adventures, I thought they warranted at least a pictorial posting.

Realizing that all work and no play makes for a dull life, we decided to take a bit of a holiday. Since visiting Rwanda in 2008, I’ve wanted to return. Though its notoriety is derived from the atrocities of the 1994 genocide, Rwanda is actually one of the most accessible, tourist-friendly spots in East Africa. It boasts comparatively excellent infrastructure, a hospitality industry geared towards English-speaking travelers, few (though I hesitate to say “no”) corrupt public servants, and laws that discourage begging/pan-handling. And, it is home to a good portion of the world’s remaining mountain gorillas and verdant, dramatic landscapes.

Thus, we decided to go for a long weekend to trek said gorillas and soak up scenic vistas along pothole-free roads. Rwanda did not disappoint (see pictures below). We opted for 2 days of gorilla trekking, and I’ve very glad for it, as the experiences were completely different. There are 8 habituated gorilla groups in Rwanda that tourists visit on a daily basis—a group of 8 humans (plus a guide and 2 trackers) are limited to an hour visit with them. But because these gorilla groups are on the move, it’s never quite certain how long or strenuous your hike to them will be. On the first day, we were assigned to the Umubano group and literally hiked straight up a volcanic mountain. Imagine that for 90 minutes straight you climb up a slippery extension latter, taking the rungs two at a time. Now, imagine that it’s not a ladder but rather some loose toeholds that the guide has dug into soft red soil with nothing but stinging nettle and loose vines to grab should you lose your balance. That was pretty much our journey. I thankfully had the assistance of a nice Rwandan porter named Simon who, despite his diminutive size, managed to pull me up the mountain. At the top, however, we were treated to amazing views of the valley below and to a mobile gorilla group. For an hour, we followed as they literally rolled down the mountain—the jungle was so thick that often times we (and the gorillas) weren’t standing/sitting on soil but atop 3 feet of trampled bushes. While I usually dread descents, the soft soil and thick foliage made it relatively easy to “fall” down the mountain without fear of bashing your head open on a rock.
Baby reaching for bamboo

Silverback

Nevertheless, after the tough climb, we requested an easier trek the next day, and boy did we get it! Assigned to the Kwitondo group, the most strenuous/technical component was breaching the 5 foot tall stone barrier separating the national park from farmland. Once inside the park, we spotted a silverback within 15 minutes. For the next hour, we moved through a maze of bamboo forest to catch the group as they snacked. Because it was feeding time, they tended to be spread out, but right before we left, the head silverback had assembled the group into what looked like a town meeting, providing an excellent glimpse of all of them at once (in panorama—I don’t think any camera could have gotten them all in since there were 20 of them and we were so close).

Oh, a note on proximity: the rules are that you are supposed to stay 7 meters away from the gorillas to minimize spreading disease to them and for safety. The reality is, though, that in the process of tracking, you often find yourself in the middle of the group and with such dense jungle, the guide can’t always predict when one of the gorillas will decide to come tumbling your way. On both treks, Francis and I came within a foot (which is sometimes scary, given that the silverbacks can weigh 400+ pounds).

Our favorite memory of the trip (though unfortunately there aren’t pictures to show) is only peripherally related to the gorillas. Apparently, if you are in elementary school, the thing to do to make money is to draw pictures of the gorillas to sell to tourists. I don’t know if it is illegal, but it is certainly discouraged, not only because Rwandans are uber-conscious of not wanting to hound tourists for money, but also because it encourages kids to draw pictures rather than do their homework (or worse, skip class and hang out by the trekking trails). Anyway, imagine our surprise when a 6 or 7 year old approached our car and flashed open one side of his jacket, not to display hot Rolex watches, but his gorilla art. Soon, there were three or four more “flashers”. It was the funniest thing ever that they felt the need to be so discrete.

Tales from the first week of distribution

[composed from my make-shift desk of sorghum bags on Thursday]

There are some times in Sudan when I ask myself—is this real?! The food distribution has, for the most part, gone very peacefully and without incident. People have been generally happy with what they have been given, and chiefs have generally been understanding that we don’t have enough food to give out to all those that are in need—there are just too many, and too little resources.

But the last two days of our distribution have been met with protests Toposa –style. While very peaceful, the entirety of this afternoon I listened as ladies made up impromptu songs and marched together on the road in front of our warehouse, using empty water bottles as percussion instruments. It sounded at least a little like a call to war. The chiefs tell me I should not be worried, but my Toposa colleagues have translated some of the lyrics: “Why are we not being given food? Is it because we are not educated? Who will write our names on the list?” The truth is, no one receiving food is educated, and it was the chiefs who wrote the names on the list. While I have been taking these protests personally (particularly because it is always ME they cry out to when I enter and exit the warehouse—darn my skin color!), I am also slightly amused to see that even in Kapoeta, even when 5,000 families have more food today than they had yesterday, the spirit of protest is alive and well and manifests itself much as it does the world over.

[and this, another snippet from an email sent to a friend today; there was also a small protest today by ladies, but not quite as organized]

I've had an exhausting day--the truck I hired to carry 50,000lbs of food out to a community had a coolant problem and had to stop every 4km! Then, when we got to the town, it was chaos and we nearly turned back, but the truck wouldn't make it, so we worked with the chiefs to calm the people and then distributed the food. But when we got down to the last two or three people, we had to high-tail it out of town and were still trailed for a good 5km by a mob of angry young men who wanted food from us. Right now all I want is a bath (hard, since I don't have a bathtub) and a pint of Ben and Jerry's (also difficult since I don't think they have a distributor on the continent).

The food is out!!!

(My apologies for just copying the email I sent to my bosses. After a rather sleepless night worrying about this day, and then an early wake-up, I'm pretty tired right now, but wanted to share the news. Finally, the feeding of the masses commenses!)

Dear Friends,

It's my pleasure to report the successful completion of our first day of food distribution. Today, 231 families from Katico Payam, Kapoeta South County, received roughly 13MT of sorghum, oil, and salt. A very talented and disciplined local staff upheld the highest standards of accountability, and the day passed peacefully, with both beneficiaries and chiefs walking away smiling.

Over the weekend, 8MT was delivered to 6 schools, and distributions are scheduled daily through this week and next. After that, we'll be back in the bomas/villages recording stories of our work (I already have a couple ideas), documenting food-for-work progress, and passing out cards for the next distribution.

Best,
Sarah





Right, so this picture has nothing to do with feeding programs, but it was on my camera and I thought Katie and Ryan would enjoy. This is our guard! On a series of consecutive rainy days, out came the UofM windbreaker. People were astonished that that coat was from "my place"--Sudanese-speak for your tribe's homeland.

Catching up - Spring 2010

Things here are moving along. Though there have been a series of steps backward (that, really, is the MO of working in Sudan), I think I'm close to being able to do my first food distribution. The pictures below are of some of the people who will receive food.

In late April, one of Francis' employees (in fact, my favorite employee) had a baby--the first born son--that he named Francis. The picture below is visiting with Stephen's family. We brought them some groceries, a couple onesies (bought from the second-hand clothing "tarps" in the market because there were no infant clothes for sale in the regular shops) and a pair of new shoes for Sophie--their two-year-old. In visiting them, I was so happy and surprised to see the alphabet sign on the wall. It got me thinking that, while people are always asking me to buy clothes for their kids, I really should be giving them children's books. Any reading material is rare (and thus precious) in Sudan, but I've NEVER seen children's books. A recent trip to Nairobi had me spending hours in the book store picking out durable and Sudan-appropriate childrens books (stories of lions and hippos, but also a couple stories of fairy princesses because even little Sudanese girls need to dream.)


The delay in getting food for my project also gave Francis and me a chance to go on a short break in Kenya. We spent a day in Nairobi, dining at fancy restaurants and tool shopping (he was in heaven) and then went on a short safari for 3 days to Lake Nakuru. Though lions and leopards are reportedly there, the grass was too thick to see them. We did, however, see lots of zebras, buffalo, rhinos, flamingos, some giraffes (from afar) and a hyena (which is much bigger than The Lion King makes them out to be--they are somewhere between the size of a big dog and a small-ish bear).