Eating Out....

Two of the nurses just asked me if I want to come and watch a baby being born. But I've decided to pass so I can update my blog. Since I last wrote I've made it back to my Sudanese home, Doro, and have been joined by five of my compatriots, who are here on a short term mission trip.

The journey here from Malakal took us in the region of 12 hours, and I think I'd lost all semblance of a sense of humour by the time we arrived. Which is obviously saying something. We now have a car at Doro, which has made trips to the market to watch World Cup matches posisble. Here is me preparing to leave Malakal:


On the road we encountered plenty of potholes, around 10 blissful miles of tarmac and some nomads:


One of whome was a boy riding a camel...you don't see that every day, even in Sudan:


After arriving in Doro we made the trip to the local petrol station to fill up:


This guy was an expert at syphoning with his mouth...

It is very nice to be back, I got a heartwarming welcome from my Sudanese friends (which has been followed up with plenty of hand holding...I'm dealing with it as best I can) and there is now tonnes of work to do on the building project. The scottish team have well and truly got stuck in to Sudanese life (one of them even spent 2 days on a drip...) and all is well.

This evening I went round to my friend John's house. This is him with his family and neighbours.


We sat and drank coffee (as is the norm here...just like at home) and chatted as best we could (John has pretty much no english). I was planning on leaving when food arrived, along with all the people from the surrounding houses. These people really do know what it means to live in community together...

In Sudan, food is normally served on one big plate and everyone just tucks in with their hands and this arrangement is not without its issues. For a start Asida (a kind of thick paste made from sorgum) is served very hot...So hot that I scalded my fingers. Secondly if, like me, you are a slow eater then all the food is finished before you've had your share. This may be the reason I've lost weight since I came to Sudan.

Anyway, we were all sitting there eating when all of a sudden torrential rain swept in from the east. Everyone scarpered in various directions leaving me standing there not knowing who to follow until eventually John led me to a grass hut, under which we sheltered along with a few goats, chickens and several dogs while we finished eating round a fire in the dark. It was an incredibly surreal experience, one of those moments you feel like you should savour because it's so rare. Unfortunately I never even brought my camera...

Journey...

My friends, I'm sure you will be as happy (and doubtless as interested) as I am to learn that I am back in Sudan. In Malakal as it happens, which, if you've been paying attention, you will recall was where I cam way back at the start of my adventure to learn a bit of Arabic. This time, the focus of my trip was somewhat different, although my grasp of the Arabic language hasn't changed too much!

I travelled here from Nairobi via Juba, Southern Sudan's capital city. Juba is to Sudan what Edinburgh is to the UK, to give you an idea of it's importance. I was glad to get the chance to see the city, or at least part of it. And was particularly thankful for a hassle-free encounter with immigration officials (I'd heard stories of untold hardship and inconvenience).

I was travelling on my own, so I found myself a room at the guesthouse of the Episcopal Church of Sudan:

Situated right next to the cathedral (it smelled of bats inside):



Perhaps you are among the many people to whom I have quoted the statistic that Juba is the 2nd most expensive city in the world. I'd love to be able to confirm that to you now but my (admittedly limited) research has failed to uncover a single shred of evidence that this is in fact the case. Prices seemed to me to be comparable with Britain.

I did have an interesting experience that night in Juba after I met up with some SIM friends who happened to be stuck in town for dinner at a very nice Ethiopian joint. After dinner, they said they were going to take a Matatu (local small minibus) home and so I walked with them out to the main road. Low and behold, we hadnt been at the main road 5 seconds when one came a long and they jumped on and were gone, leaving me standing in the dark in the middle of an unkown city...That was when I realised that I didnt actually know where my guesthouse was.

I was standing there in a state of mild unease (which may have been tending towards panic), randomly waving my arms at passing cars and generally wondering what to do when a motorbike (another form of public transport) drove past. "Hey you" I shouted in my best Arabic. The guy stopped and I asked him if he knew where the ECS Guesthouse was. He didn't. "OK, just go this way" I said, pointing in the general direction that I'd come from.

I was riding on the blind hope that I'd see a half fallen over road sign that had caught my eye on the way to the restaurant. And do you know what, I did see it, and was able to find my way back to the guesthouse from there. It was only after I got back that I realised how much worse that story could have turned out...

Anwyay, I subsequently made it safely to Malakal and was reaquainted with old friends in a familiar town. I then spent most of Friday getting myself a Sudanese driving licence. This was a long but generally smooth process that involved going to the hospital for an eye test that consisted of a guy saying "can you see?". "Yes". "Ok, here you go", before signing my form.

And now, driving licence in hand, I plan to drive back to Doro tomorrow, in a nice Toyota Hi-lux that has been purchased by some of my colleagues there. It should be a fun journey, what with the rainy season and muddy roads. I wonder who'll come and help if we get stuck....

Tears...

Turns out life in Nairobi is not completely bereft of interesting events. Today, Stephen and I were out buying building materials with all the abandon that comes from spending someone elses money. On our way back to SIM HQ in the car we were stuck in traffic when Stephen said:

"The police have been spraying tear gas...I can smell it"

I couldn't smell anything other than car fumes and gave him a dubious look, suspecting he was talking nonsense. However, not five minutes later my throat was stinging and tears were streaming down my face (and no, i wasn't just having an emotional moment). I turned to look at Stephen and he was the same, if not worse than me. It was a deeply unpleasant and painful experience which I have no desire to repeat. So that rules out rioting anarchist as a future career move...

There have been more changes in the ever unpredictable world of SIM Sudan, and I am now potentially leaving Nairobi on Monday to make my (roundabout) way to Malakal to purchase more supplies (Timber, in case you're interested). Should be an adventure...certainly beats kicking about an appartment in Nairobi playing games on Sporcle...or does it?