Goodbye Doro...

According to 'Blogger', it has been a frankly unacceptable two weeks since I last wrote. You can generally take it as read that if there is a long period of silence things have been either boring or bad. If they are boring I wouldn't want to trouble you with them (I'm all to aware of the risks of just writing whatever comes in to your mind and publishing it on the world wide web...I don't want to be that guy). If they are bad, well, then I wouldn't tell you about them here.

The Canadian team who are with us are now drawing to the close of their time after two weeks of sterling work. They leave on Friday. Unfortunately, so do I. I have been summoned to Nairobi to work there for a couple of weeks. I'm so excited I think I might explode. It says in Philippians 2:14 to do "all things without grumbling or questioning". Sometimes this is easier than others...

One of the guys on the Canada team is a bit trigger happy with his camera, and so I have stolen all of his photos. This is good because I am anything but trigger happy with my camera...and am desperate to get hold of any good photos I can find. For instance, he took this one of our compound at night, which is class (if you look closely you can see my two Kenyan sidekicks in the background):


And this is me showing them around the building site and pretending to know what I'm talking about.

I'll give ten (Sudanese) Pounds to the person who comes up with the funniest caption to that photo...

In all seriousness, I am even more sad to leave Doro this time than last. My friendships with the Sudanese guys have kept me going, and I shall really miss them. They continue to provide me with good company and banter. One particular area of concern for them is my ongoing singleness, and in a culture where guys often get married at 16 this is understandable. Recently they have devoted a lot of effort to trying to find me a wife...I on the other hand, have tried to explain to them all the issues that would create for me, whilst keeping on my guard to avoid potential awkward moments.

I have also made another step in the right direction by having the chance to eat with some of them. One evening I went round to the house of some of my friends just after dark (I only recently discovered that I was allowed out after dark) and sat round the fire with them as they prepared food. Being British, I didn't want to impose myself on them and planned to leave as soon as the food was ready. This was, I'm afraid, exceptionally naive of me (as I have been told before how important it is in Sudanese culture to show hospitality to guests) and when I made to go Michael responded with a very offended sounding "you mean you don't want to eat with us?!" I made the most profuse apologies and sat with them in their tukul to enjoy a simple, but very tasty (it wasn't goat) meal with my lesson duly learned.

On a positive note, my Arabic has been steadily improving over the last month, to the point where I can almost understand whole conversations that people have. Unfortunately this uses up pretty much all of my brain power and I am pretty incapable when it come to making contributions myself. Particularly if they extend beyond saying where I am coming from and where I'm going. There's a kid in the market who I sometimes buy from who laughs at me every time I try to speak Arabic to him...

On another positive note (particularly for the Sudanese) the rain has continued to descend. Sometimes in spectacular fashion. This is important as you need rain to grow food. And here, they dont have a lot of food. The other day I heard that a neighbour (And friend) of ours had not had a proper meal in months...when you realise it is that close to home it is astounding, and more than a little uncomfortable, given that we have so much. It certainly draws passages like Matthew 6:25-26 into sharper focus...

And so it's off to Nairobi again. I doubt I'll have much to report while I'm there, buying supplies for a building project doesnt usually make for good stories in my experience. But I shall keep you posted as to what is going on. There have been times in the last week when I have wished more than anything that I wasn't here. I hope they won't be repeated...

Rain...

Today, the rains properly came to Doro for the first time this year. It looked something like this:


Although, to be fair, the picture doesn't really capture the moment very well. The storm, and it really was a storm, wasn't without it's consequences either. One of our shower enclosures blew down (whilst someone was using it...) and one of our kitchens just about keeled over. Although thankfully it wasnt my one:


However, never one to miss out on excitement around here I boldy volunteered to help Sandy clear out the food before it collapsed properly. By the end it was starting to make concerning noises at which point Sandy, who had gone outside, shouted "Kevin, get out of there!", and I had to dive out the door (which was easier said than done, given the difficult angle). You've no idea how much I'd love to tell you that the moment I got out it collapsed to the ground but I'm afraid to say it is still standing and I look significantly less macho than I may otherwise have done. What a shame.

The arrival of the rains today is, in a way, a little ironic as I was planning to write about the cronic shortage of water around here at the moment. Just about every river is dry and we are all reliant on water from the nearby borehole. Getting water from the borehole is hard work (well, it looks hard to me - I've never actually done it) and for this reason, and because we are all pretty busy, we pay a guy with a donkey cart to do it for us. Michael, also sometimes referred to as the donkey man (which I think is a little unkind...he looks nothing like a donkey) brings water 3-4 times a week:


and fills barrells dotted around our compound:


This arrangement works well for us and for him. He gets paid a princely sum for each barrell he brings and we dont have to toil in the blistering sun for which we are ill equipped.

In other news, things have changed here somewhat since I last wrote. I now have two Kenyan sidekicks working on the building project instead of one, and a whole team of Canadians who arrived yesterday to work with me for a few weeks. The challenge now is making good use of their time.

Last Sunday, a few of us travelled to a neighbouring village (called Gasmala, in case you're interested) to attend church there. I was sitting next to the pastor, a friend of mine called James. About ten minutes in to the service James leaned over to me...

"Kevin, would you like to share the message this morning?"
"I'm sorry, what!?"
"Would you like to give the message this morning?"
"...eh, ok"

And so I had to spend the next fifteen minutes coming up with something to say. Fortunately, my Arabic is still limited (which is usually a source of real frustration for me) and so I spoke through a translator. Which made the whole thing much less daunting for some reason. It seemed to go down ok too. Although maybe that was because they didn't really understand what I said!

Finally, as you know I'm not a medical man, and as such I tend to keep my distance from the clinic that operates right next to the building site (except to occasionally steal a cup of tea and a mandazi, and to say hello to my friends who work there) however every now and then I hear about something they have had to deal with there that is impossible to ignore.

This past Sunday, a mother brought her baby to the clinic. The previous evening a drunk man had come to her house and while she was not looking, picked up the baby and dropped her. On her head. By the time she reached our clinic there was nothing they could do and the baby died a short time later. I'm told the mother was understandably devestated. I think it might be just about one of the most tragic stories I've ever heard...

Welcome Back...

We arrived back at Doro yesterday and were greeted by this scene:


It is good to be back, and the people seem pleased to have us back, which is nice. The journey from Nairobi is spread over two legs, with an overnight stay in a place called Lokichoggio (or Loki, to seasoned tavellers) in North-Western Kenya. We made the first trip on a plane operated by Mission Aviation Fellowhip or MAF who have been flying missionaries around for over 60 years, before the journey from Loki into Sudan with our regular carrier, AIM Air (The airborne arm of African Inland Mission). Loki used to be the base for much of the aid effort in Sudan during the war, but now it's a bit of a ghost town with a nice restaurant. We spent the night in the SIM guest house:


Which is pretty decent, a kind of last dose of civilisation before the hardships of rural Sudan, before packing up our wee plane and heading for the skies over Southern Sudan. Loading the plane is a bit of a trade off between how much weight you can carry, and how much fuel you have available. We were fully loaded yesterday:


So fully loaded that we had to take some fuel off before leaving (I say we, I just watched while the AIM Air people did the hard work), which in turn led to a rather concerning low fuel alarm going off shortly before we landed at Doro. There were worried looks between us all, although noone ventured to put the obvious question to the pilot, who was otherwise engaged.

Anyway, needless to say we got here safely, and began the epic task of cleaning up the 3 and a half weeks worth of dirt that had accumulated in our houses (which equates to about a foot of dust on every flat surface). I moved a box in my house and found a massive scorpion hiding underneath. I really wish I'd taken a photo to share with you but alas, I panicked and killed it (at the third attempt).

And so we're all getting into the zone for returning to work on Monday, and being reunited with Sudanese friends, which has been great.

One of the joys of living on a base on which the primary focus is a health project is that you are frequently exposed to stomach turning medical chat. You never know what's coming next. Two minutes ago I went into the fridge to get a coke (one of the few luxuries available here) and found what looked like drugs sitting on top of everything. I turned to ask Amy, one of the nurses, what they were only to be informed that they were in fact rectal suppostories. On top of my coke.

Lovely...