tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50478652565816565342024-03-13T03:08:12.103+02:00Contingency Plan SudanNegotiating the mud and madness in rural SudanContingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-32261809862825488272008-09-05T14:03:00.004+03:002008-09-05T15:39:35.809+03:00Out of the SudI'm officially out of the Sudan now. We actually made it out last Tuesday, but I've been in transit all over the place for the last week and am now getting settled in Western Kenya.<br /><br />After a month of heavy rains, the reliability of our airstrip in Pagak had become pretty questionable. There is a UN charter flight every Thursday that, for about a hundred bucks, will take you from Upper Nile to Juba in just a few hours. Before the plane touches down, the pilot does a once over to see if the dirt airstrip is muddy or has standing water that will foul the landing gear. Most pilots will just keep the party train moving if they see any sign of water. The Russian guys will land in a swamp. We had a heavy rain a few days before last Thursday's scheduled flight. It's not normally a problem, but the dirt levee guarding the channel that drains all of the water from the high end of the airstrip to the river broke down leaving the airstrip a bit ''marshy.''<br /><br />At the same time, two of the other guys in the compound were making their exit on foot along the former repatatriation corridor between Pagak and Kuergeng, Ethiopia. In all it is about 25 kilometers or so and takes most of the local Nuer only about three or four hours to walk it. I decided to tag along--I figured that the UNDSS plan would probably leave me in Pagak for an extra week or two and that I would end up walking to Ethiopia anyway. It looked promising for an experience and seemed to be a fitting one for the end of my time in Sudan.<br /><br />We woke up early, about 5 in the morning. I had my usual breakfast of tea with a half a mug of sugar and powdered cream. I lost my shoes about a month earlier on a previous supply run to Ethiopia and had been wearing blue "floaters", these puffy plastic sandals that I bought for a buck and a half that are moulded to resemble real shoes. They lacked an ankle strap so I fashioned one using duct tape, some nylon rope, and a couple of socks that I cut up for padding. I still had my gumboots, but the water level is too high and the boots would be useless for the trek. When the other guys saw my new homemade shoes, they laughed and Kenneth lent me his sneakers.<br /><br />As we left Pagak, the trip went as previous ones had, stepping on broken maize stalks and grass to gain traction in the mud. We took a detour around the area with the crocodiles just at the edge of town and continued along the muddy path that leads to the Ethiopian border. Not long after we left the path disappeared and turned into a swamp. The luggage went on heads, and we started wading through it. Within about 10 minutes, the water, which was at about knee level was rising rapidly. For a shorty like me, eventually the water topped out at about my shoulders. Its slow going walking in water. You have to make sure that your feet don't get tangled in the underwater foliage or get snagged on thorns. With the wrong footing it would be easy to dump your luggage from your head into the muddy depths. The rains are also great for taking all of the crap, of which I mean in the literal sense, that usually sits on walking paths and int he bushes and turns everything into a muddy poopy mess.<br /><br />The border is only a few kilometers away, though it took us about two hours to get there. At the border there is a collapsed bridge spanning a small river that separates two bored looking soldiers from their respective militaries. A month ago, the bridge was easily passable on quad bike but the water was now rushing over the top of it and when crossing, you have to sort of have faith that there will be bridge solidy beneath your feet.<br /><br />The path that we normally take now looked like a stream. Althogh the fields around it were also flooded, its lack of foliage made it the easiest path for the movement of water. After some time, we reached an actual river that I had remembered from previous trips as a big depression that you drive through, down about 20 feet and then back up again. Now, on either side of the banks there were a bunch of people waiting to cross. Some girls had created a system, by which they would swim giant buckets across the river containing luggage or other carried items away from the water's reach. As you swim across it, you have to cut left hard and hug the tree-line. Immediately the strong downstream current whips you along with it and you have to power through to the other side before you get taken somewhere into what just looks like a tangled mess of trees, vines, and grass. After a few trips back across to pick up other guys in our party, it was back to walking along the flooded path.<br /><br />About half way, the water level dropped from waist level to nothing and in some parts dried up completely. For these stretches it was punishing. Earlier, the muddy water would help to keep you cool and when you get overheated you just duck beneath its dubious surface. It was now midday and hot as hell. There is mud but, the steamy hot kind kind that you sink down to about your knees and have to pull your leg out with your arms. We only had a few litres of water between us and I was rationing my precious liter with mathematic precision.<br /><br />After about 7 hours I saw a radio antenna in the distance that lets you know you are about to reach Kuergeng. I poured the last remnants of my water down the ol' gullet and gambled that we would get there soon. What an idiot. Turns out that it was one of those mirages, where you keep walking and it never seems to get closer. By now, the heat, no food, and no water was starting to take its toll. I was grateful for the final stretch-about 3 kilometers of waist high muddy water. I was starting to get heat exhaustion and needed the water to cool off. Only now the water had absorbed all of the midday heat and was like a muddy spa. It took all of my energy to get to dry land and as I staggered out into a village just short of the town, a pissed off Nuer guy started shaking his fist at me. I realized that I had stepped on his levee that kept his village area dry and water was now spilling into it. He saw that I was not really in much of a condition for anything, softened, and pointed out the direction I needed to go to town.<br /><br />We finally made it. 8 or 9 hours later we reached a hotel restaurant where we had some water, soda, and crackers. My stomach was not really with it enough from the heat exhaustion to have much water, but I forced some in--took half an orange soda and waited to get the sugar levels back to normal. The ride from Kuergeng to Gambella is only about an hour and a half but it was enough to get me back into normal condition. We reached our hotel in Gambella, where I promptly ordered and ate two dinners.<br /><br />I'll let you know how the trip to Addis, Nairobi, and out here to Nyanza went. The mattatu ride out here was a few hours on a horrible road and one of the wheels fell off, but rural Kenya is beyond sweet. I'm hanging out on a hill overlooking lake Victoria eating 15 cent samosas and giant deep fried Tilapia.Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-47253763610528167022008-08-23T21:19:00.002+03:002008-08-23T21:47:07.262+03:00Updates at Long LastHi all. Sorry for the lack of updates for the past two weeks or so. My laptop finally succumbed to the field and is out of commission until I get back. I'm now using an old Dell desktop that is shared amongst three others. That also means that photos are also a no go for a while.<br /><br />That is not to say that things haven't been lively around here though. After we had our most recent supply drop, we've been having non-stop programming. The week before last, the village health committee got off the ground and we had a three-day, eight-hour training workshop for about 40 people. We trained them on how to deliver health messages in their respective villages and created and action plan for forming a local management committee to take greater involvement in operating the clinic and dealing with issues that come up. <br /><br />Then we had a second de-worming event at the refugee waystation. This one targeted another 300 children who were given de-worming pills (mmmmm!) and a mosquito net. This was also about the time that we ran out of food at our compound and had been subsisting on scraps of rice and beens for about a week. The waystation has three giant ostriches that are kept there as pets and we started planning for Operation Ostrich Liberation, which is where you sneak into the waystation and eat their pets. Unfortunately, a two-meter tall bird resembling a Velociraptor is unlikely to be hidden in a large shirt.<br /><br />This week, we had two more training workshops--one for the teachers at the Early Childhood Centers and one for parents. After two or three weeks of bad weather and no supplies the last two weeks have been ridiculously packed. They've also given me a chance to get the documentary filming into high gear. Today, I shot my 33rd hour and have been interviewing parents, teachers, and pretty much everyone I run into. Every person that I've interviewed was either a refugee or child soldier during the war--and this from one of the safest regions during the fighting. I wish I had another two weeks to shore up the footage, there is still a lot to cover and it has only been within the past weeks that I've been able to get where I need to be to talk to people. <br /><br />Good news though, I am making my escape on Tuesday with the end result of finding my way to Addis Ababa by Saturday. Bad news is that after heavy heavy rains the airstrip is no longer functioning reliably and the road to Ethiopia is covered in a few feet of water. David, Duncan, and I are going to make the trek to Ethiopia on foot through about 30k of what now looks like the Everglades, but with crocodiles instead of alligators. Good news is that once I get to Kuergen and then Gambella, there should be real food! Meat, vegetables, the whole lot. The best news is that after Saturday, I'll be spending my last two weeks going cross country in Kenya and chilling in Nyanza near Lake Victoria. More to come on plans for the developing exodus to food and freedom!Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-77311366991476403172008-08-09T13:33:00.005+03:002008-08-09T14:08:43.825+03:00After a Week of Not too Much to Report, the Plane ComesSorry for the lack of updates, but this past week has been pretty slow. Plagued by a lack of drugs in the clinic and no money for programs or to pay salaries, it had seemed as though things had sort of ground to a halt. However, yesterday our charter plane made it in just before the rains opened up and was able to deliver boxes of much needed drugs from the Southern Sudan Ministry of Health. <div> <img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3241/2744332074_d20990e9ff.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3275/2744332078_3cb0d693a5.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3249/2744332086_3e7855574c.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3061/2745646677_cb109fb4cf.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3194/2745646681_ca9432a933.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3245/2745646685_974ac513cb.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3067/2746493192_71d08ecc86.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Hopefully this means that starting this next week we can get back to our programs. Things were starting to get a touch of the old cabin fever for a while. As in, when you hear an engine of sorts outside the compound, you run over to the fence to gawk at whatever/whoever is passing by. Maybe not the best use of time but it does provide for intermittent entertainment. Even better, we've been watching the Olympics pretty much non-stop on the sat TV in the dining hall. The opening ceremony rocked my world. </div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-55565987251563510582008-08-03T22:01:00.005+03:002008-08-05T11:37:41.838+03:00Weekend Supply Drop and Other Fun<div>On Saturday, our long anticipated charter flight arrived. We were to receive supplies, the most important of which were the drugs for the local clinic. Unfortunately, either due to a delay in the delivery to Juba or some other mishap, the only things on the flight were materials for the Early Child Development program, including about a dozen easel chalkboards. Even worse that meant we had to go our Monday meeting about the drug supply problems with less than awesome news. </div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3283/2729299256_91e7a8c089.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>Despite the small setback with the charter, the weekend was great. A second UN flight came and the UNICEF officer who had been stranded in Pagak and for the past week had been staying in our compound was able to leave. The UN flight brought somebody important--perhaps a new local administrator, as the flight was greeted with far more people than the usual crowd for a plane landing. The rest of the weekend was marked with non-stop women singing and drum music. Homemade hooch (a rough but potent home brew of yeast and sugar) flowed freely throughout town.</div><div><br /></div><div>Sunday was a nice day of rest. I slept in until about 10 and just sort of fumbled around for a few hours, not doing anything in particular. Lunch was the usual blend of rice and baked beans. Afterwards though, we finished preparing a goat head for a much better and far more satisfying meal. Lately, we've been keeping the head after the goats have been slaughtered. Usually we send them home with somebody. However, the last two times one of the guys has commandeered it for a special treat--Kenyan style. Preparing it is a two day process. First it is put on a rock or grill on the fire. The heat quickly singes the hair and carbonizes the skin, locking in the moisture on the inside. Then you take a knife an scrape off all of the blackened outer layer and repeat until the outside is at the perfect consistency and the inside is mostly cooked. The next day, the head is slowly cooked in water with some spices and greens. After a few hours you have a delicious spicy soup as well as a bunch of delicious meat. Everything gets eaten and nothing is wasted. </div><div><br /></div><div>After sitting around eating goat, we had a few cold beers and retired for a nice long afternoon siesta. Sudan can be tough sometimes and development work is painstakingly slow but its nice those times when you can laze back embrace it and have yourself a mini-vacation.</div><div><br /></div><div>Also, in what would be great news, a <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/7540838.stm">malaria vaccine has shown effective results in clinical animal trials and is now set to be tested on human candidates</a>.</div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-32519436371766224632008-07-30T15:54:00.005+03:002008-12-09T09:13:55.564+03:00Back in the Pag<div>Made it back to Pagak after two nights across the border in Gambella, Ethiopia. The trip there wasn'tt terribly eventful--an hour and a half quad-bike ride to Kuergen across the border and then another hour and a half drive from Kuergen to Gambella. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We arranged to buy two drums of diesel from some lady on a weird side. Our order wouldn't be ready until the following day so we extended what was to be an overnight stay. Gambella wasn't too exciting but it was sure nice to get out of the compound and have some fresh food. Bread totally rocks my world. Hardcore. Unfortunately Wandera was sick most of the time with some sort of pneumonia so after dinner we didn't really do much.</div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3281/2711452312_83a03d0232.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3281/2711452312_83a03d0232.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3123/2711452318_bb0a1315aa.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>On our final morning we hit each shop that we needed to visit to buy supplies--disinfectant, rope, and the like. We also cleaned out the market buying up as many fresh(ish) tomatoes, cabbage, oranges, and lentils as we could fit on the bikes. We loaded up the LandCruiser, sort of slipped past the bored looking policeman on the road to Kuergan (who could cause problems for anyone trying to bring goods out of the country).</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3284/2711452320_5e3c2d0309.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>While we were unloading the LandCruiser at the police station in Kuergan where we had stashed the quad-bikes, some nasty looking rain clouds started in on us. You could see where it was just pounding the trees and grass off in the distance. The foreground was nice and clear but the trees about 500 yards away were obscured by a grey black veil of heavy rain. We started off about two minutes before the rain caught up with us. And when it did catch us, things became tough, real fast. The dirt road from Pagak to Kuergan normally passable by quadbike started to flood so we had to race through the bush where the grass would grind into the mud to provide more traction. The hot humid air transformed into a vicious cold wind as we barreled through it on the bikes. And then we started loosing the food. Every few minutes a cabbage, tomato, or some other precious piece of produce would fly off the back and sink beneath the muck somewhere behind us. I had already lost my sandals, headphones, and lens cap on the previous journey and now the delicious food was now going overboard. A giant hole in the cheap plastic bag holding our lentils opened up behind me and I could feel kilogram after kilogram of tiny beans filling the back of my pants and subsequently became a mushy ersatz turd. The cardboard box on the other quad-bike melted in the rain dumping out the disinfectant and other random things all over the place. We hit a bad spot and the bike started to sink down in the mud and despite much coaxing rolled over on its side dumping passenger and produce into a huge pool of mud and feces. Some kids though, watching with amusement our slo-mo disaster, were kind enough to come help us right the bike and retrieve the lost goodies.</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3188/2711452324_4c559f52f7.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>We made it back to Pagak without further incident. Pagak bridge was not yet flooded so we were able to just roll on over. In another week though it will become impassable and the bikes will have to be floated across on an oil drum raft. But for now, we have another few weeks worth of fresh food and two months of gas!</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3245/2710688297_7effeb3906.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3013/2710688307_6ef51226c1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_xXKSt5vFxb4/SJCc6vRoeuI/AAAAAAAAABY/uxpxGZ80jbw/s320/IMG_7803.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5228851700313914082" /></div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-6909013454307261822008-07-26T11:07:00.003+03:002008-07-26T11:12:32.740+03:00Off to Ethiopia AgainHeading out in a few minutes to find some food and fuel across the ol' border. I should be back sometime tomorrow or the next day. Hooray for vegetables and lights!Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-58110974874378021672008-07-24T20:18:00.007+03:002008-07-24T23:17:39.340+03:00Night time is niceOnce the generator dies at night, it becomes so dark that you can see more stars than in most places in the world. The air is devoid of pollution and there is literally no artificial light for hundreds of miles. The Milky Way is pretty sweet.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3217/2698150856_f4d2d0d7b3.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3217/2698150856_f4d2d0d7b3.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3153/2698150866_097b382745.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3153/2698150866_097b382745.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><div><div><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3006/2698150854_1f03c9ab93.jpg" alt="" border="0" /><br /></div><div>On an entirely different note, you should totally check out <a href="http://www.clownswithoutborders.org/">this website</a><span style="text-decoration: underline;"><br /></span></div></div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-76000108875868288342008-07-24T12:31:00.005+03:002008-07-24T17:18:50.432+03:00The Rains Cometh!When I woke up yesterday, there was something crazy flapping behind the curtain. I pulled it away and found this little guy just sort of watching things from the wrong side of the window.<br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3241/2698124812_bfd226630d.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />We had a pretty gnarly thunderstorm during the night and apparently he decided that my room would be good shelter from the storm. Fine by me. I opened up the little glass slats that is my window and let him go on his way.<br /><br />In the morning, I headed down to the clinic to help out and try to do some damage control on the drug shortage issue. While I was there, I helped one of the staff reorganize the store-room into something a bit more coherent. Previously, all of the drugs and supplies were just sort of stored haphazardly in quarter full cardboard boxes around the tiny room. As we started shelving the supplies, I realized quite how out of drugs they were. Aside from a few bottles of antibiotics and Lidocaine, not much else was there. For some reason, though, there was a ton of dextrose saline bags meant for IV drips. Which is great, but it’s tough when there isn’t much else to give.<br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3286/2697267719_7d0dd714d7.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3128/2697267721_dce72978ef.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />On my last few visits, I’ve been meeting with patients, which is strange, since many people assume that I’m a doctor because I am white. Which could be bad given that I don’t have any drugs. Two days ago I visited a guy with severe advanced Pneumonia. If you put a stethoscope up to his back, his left lung sounded fine but not much was going on in the right one. Not even much of a rattle or wheeze. Not good. He’s been on, you guessed it, an IV drip as well a high dose of antibiotics. Yesterday the staff was feeding him a plate of brown gruel covered with cloudy murky water.<br /><br />After I returned to the compound, the sky opened up. Not quite like before, but much worse. It was only about 12:30, but the sky looked like it was about eight at night. Not good. Within about 20 minutes, everything started flooding. </div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3026/2695835412_3ca85a78c0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3103/2695835418_a14de3827d.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3118/2695835416_d21116c37a.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />There is a shallow drainage channel that funnels the water from the center of the compound out onto the airstrip. The problem occurs when it comes down faster than the channel can handle. One side of the compound, the one on slightly higher ground, was fine. As for the other one, well…<br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3173/2698064224_bb00d8c1c0.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3285/2698064236_97822bac0c.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3284/2697267715_8e9c2d4116.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />Oddly enough, by the end of the day the water was gone and things were just back to mudtown as usual. The heavy rains that were supposed to have started weeks ago now seem to be upon us after a brief delay.</div><div><br /></div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-52382575679770360062008-07-21T21:31:00.003+03:002008-07-22T09:39:59.253+03:00Rough DaySo yesterday the plan was to head down to the ECD center with some meds, mosquito nets, and registration forms to deworm the ECD kids. That was the plan. And deworm we did. About 200 parents and kids showed up for the event. <div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3139/2689086289_c3c201d7e9.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>Unfortunately, the procedures for the actual registration and de-worming were a bit...ahem...underdeveloped. And by underdeveloped I mean chaotic. It started out simple enough. Duncan and Jaffar gave a talk about malaria, how it is transmitted, and how people can protect themselves. They gave a demonstration on how to put together and properly use one of the Long Lasting Insecticide Treated Nets. Later we divided everybody up into about four or five groups and one or two of us manned each one with local translators (except for Judith who had to enlist the help of some of the students from her social marketing youth group). We wrote down the name of each child and parent we treated, checked it against our ECD list, and gave each de-worming pills. We gave the youngest children got a mosquito net. Despite the disordered craziness, it was going great. </div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3180/2689345647_c72ac63741.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3201/2689345621_357498bbce.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3112/2689938510_b86fd56e26.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>That is until the nets and the meds meant for the ECD kids ran out. Leaving a lot of very pissed off people wondering where their goodies were. There were even people there from Ethiopia who had heard about the even through the vast informal network and had walked with kids all the way from Kuergen--about a six hour walk. When we started to wrap up, most just begged for any of the goods. It was terribly difficult to tell them that we only had enough drugs and nets for the young kids that attended the center. Many though, were a bit more vociferous in demanding the nets and the meds. It's entirely understandable, they walked from who knows where, waited for several hours, watched others get meds and nets, only to be denied at the end. On the other hand it got a bit nasty as pleas turned into yelling in some cases. I'm not sure who did it, but I definitely got whacked over the head with a stick or a piece of rope while I was kneeling in the other direction. </div><div><br /></div><div>As I mentioned previously, aid dependency is a very real problem and yesterday, thanks in part to some disorganization and poor planning, it reared its nasty side. The trick of it all is to somehow continue to ensure that basic goods and services are in some way being produced and distributed, even as NGO's shift their programming away from relief aid towards development. And avoid getting smacked in the process. </div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-74413062645575539362008-07-20T20:40:00.002+03:002008-07-20T20:45:27.290+03:00Security Level in Upper Nile Increased......due to increased river pirate activity. Seriously, river pirates? What's that about?Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-49729819199244745822008-07-20T11:21:00.000+03:002008-12-09T09:13:55.700+03:00Weekend of Mud<object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400" height="225" data="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=55430" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000"> <param name="flashvars" value="intl_lang=en-us&photo_secret=c92c717687&photo_id=2683388774"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=55430"> <param name="bgcolor" value="#000000"> <param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=55430" bgcolor="#000000" allowfullscreen="true" flashvars="intl_lang=en-us&photo_secret=c92c717687&photo_id=2683388774" height="225" width="400"></embed></object><br />We've had non-stop rain this weekend...which means non-stop mud. Unfortunately, it also means that not much can really be done. Except watch the UFO and alien marathon on the National Geographic--all day. We have satellite TV while the generator is on for its few hours today. The best we can come up with is a UFO marathon? Seriously. In the last five minutes, I heard the phrase "moon germs." Moon germs. Didn't National Geographic used to be a respectable programming network? The other option is the early 1990's movie "The Road to Christmas". Which may be how I spend the day if I have to watch another dramatic recreation of alien experimentation.<div><br /></div><div>Anyhow, here are some pictures of the old mudpound from the weekend. If anyone is interested, I should be an expert on aliens by the the end of the day.</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3018/2683262186_17f7fac95d.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3168/2683234230_fc244615f2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3227/2682404831_ff6310cc0a.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3025/2683249106_05373dab35.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>Courtesy of Miss Judis:</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_xXKSt5vFxb4/SIMABDcmrfI/AAAAAAAAABQ/hS6oWDcTw1U/s320/2683301562_eecb3d45d7.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225020010785058290" /><br /></div><div>On the bright side, at least the rain washed off our dinner! Potato Time!</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3121/2682456749_635f6b3f96.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><br /></div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-6639920878583895692008-07-19T20:03:00.008+03:002008-12-09T09:13:56.044+03:00DIY HaircutSuccess.<div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xXKSt5vFxb4/SIIe4zOSyhI/AAAAAAAAABA/2ysLT6oz3PA/s320/IMG_0501.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224772478874864146" /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Failure.</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xXKSt5vFxb4/SIIqemFwT9I/AAAAAAAAABI/t9FkpbjGaP0/s320/IMG_0504.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224785222812323794" /><br /></div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-1646461956528407752008-07-19T09:45:00.008+03:002008-07-19T12:00:54.752+03:00The Drug Shortage ContinuesYesterday, we met again at the PHCC to discuss the complete shortage of drugs. The supply of the critical drugs like Quinine is no worse today than it was yesterday (Still nearly at 0), but tensions over it have been steadily increasing. The clinic staff is anxious over the clinic's condition. And rightfully so. They've also been working without salary for quite some time now. Last year, when the same issue came to a breaking point, one of our staff was arrested by the local police for not suppling the clinic with drugs.<div><br /></div><div>I'm afraid, that this is where things are headed again. That is, unless we get the drugs here very soon. One of the community health mobilizers, a 20 year veteran of the war, likened the situation to sending soldiers into battle with no bullets. It reminded him of the time when he was given only two bullets for his rifle before a large engagement, fired them off within the first few minutes and had to run away. That's not something you want your operation compared too. Another second problem is lights. If a patient comes in at night--too bad. Without a generator to supply electricity, the staff have to work by flashlight or tell the patient to return in the morning. SC had provided the clinic with a solar powered lamp, but it has gone missing in action--likely stolen and sold in some market somewhere. </div><div><br /></div><div>The problem is a complex one. It begs the question--what are the roles and responsibilities of NGO's in post-conflict countries? Especially those that have long existed as a humanitarian emergency that required the direct distribution of aid. Duncan raised an interesting point, that when John Garang signed the CPA in 2005, it signaled the end to most organizations relief operations in Sudan. Many have packed up and left, but others like SC are switching their programming from relief to development. Aid dependence is a legacy of that time that will continue to affect life far after the end of the conflict. And that's why this drug problem is becoming so acute. The bureaucratic foul-ups and transport issues that have prevented the drug distribution aside (and I assure you there have been many), the current problem highlights the increasing divergence of community expectations and the responsibilities of organizations as they view themselves. Community ownership of NGO programming and aid dependence are competing values--you can't have both. At the same time, with an infant government of Southern Sudann (GoSS), public goods are in short supply and organizations cannot entirely abandon certain relief efforts wholesale. Although that was not the intention of the drug shortage at the clinic, it has functioned as such. One day the clinic had drugs, the next day it didn't.</div><div><br /></div><div>And yet, what happens if a shipment of drugs is able to get through in the next month? What happens after the rush on drugs a month later when the clinic is again empty? You are back to square one--and that seems to have been the case during the period when our staff was arrested over the shortage a year ago and the situation today. Who is to say that won't be the situation again a year from now? Whose responsibility is it ultimately in the long run to keep drugs stocked at the clinic.</div><div><br /></div><div>We talked about our two-pronged approach. On the one hand, we are trying to get the drugs here. Some are sitting somewhere in the region, but apparently there is no way to get them here given the weather. The roads are flooded. The other is where the idea of a Village Health Committee comes in. Curative medicine is critical. A person becomes sick with a life threatening disease and they need drugs and treatment to recover. Otherwise they die. However, so many of the diseases here are preventable. Not entirely, but with better sanitation facilities, knowledge of the spread of disease, and basic precautions the rates of infection will decrease. If you can involve community stakeholders to become directly engaged in managing and solving these issues than you have a program that is sustainable. When NGO's eventually leave,or the drug supply again runs out again, the region will be less likely to plummet back into a health disaster. The problem is, thats a hard place to get to. </div><div><br /></div><div>The drug supply issue is threatening to undercut the VHC program. Why should individuals help us mobilize others to spread awareness of a clinic's services if the community can't receive treatment there? The short answer goes back to the importance of shifting attitudes towards accepting and using good health practices. This would continue to reduce of the burden on the curative side of managing endemic health problems and makes for a better, self-sufficient society. Yet this is something that is, at its core, an exercise dependent upon trust-building. Without resolving the drug issue expediently, this trust is going to be in limited supply. </div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-62214810559205803062008-07-17T21:14:00.004+03:002008-08-05T11:42:09.613+03:00Drugless in PagakToday, Duncan, Titus, Jaffar, and I went to the local Payam administrators to try to get them on board with the creation of the Village Health Committee. They gave us a tentative go ahead and agreed to call all of the local Boma (village) chiefs together tomorrow so we can discuss the process of selecting a man and woman to represent each Boma in the committee. We were, however, lectured at length about the lack of drugs at the Public Health Community Center (PHCC). It seems that not only has there been a complete lack of drugs at the clinic, but also the staff have not been paid salary in some months. The drug shortage is starting to reach a critical level and risks jeopardizing the programs we are working on.<div><br /></div><div>Earlier, I went to the clinic with Jaffar to check up on a woman who was admitted yesterday with a severe case of cerebral malaria. The problem is that the PHCC is at a total lack of drugs, including the quinine that is necessary to treat Malaria. Cerebral malaria is what happens when malaria goes from bad to worse. The parasite crosses the blood brain barrier and the infected individual will no longer respond to a strong dose of prophylaxis (which can only treat malaria while it is still in the bloodstream. Without treatment it leads to coma and eventually death. Despite the lack of quinine, someone in her family was able to buy a dose in the local market.</div><div><br /></div><div>Jaffar and I went to the two small shops where drugs are sold to see if we could track down some quinine. You need about four or five doses to make a decent recovery from such a severe case (Each dose contains six mini-doses that are administered intravenously). Although the woman had received one, the chances are high that she would soon relapse into a severe case or, even worse, one that is quinine resistant. The first chemist we went to was not only out of quinine, but also most antibiotics and other drugs that would be helpful in treating severe cases. The second chemist had a small supply of quinine at about 60 Birr (about six bucks) a dose. I really wanted to buy the woman a second dose, but with my Ethiopian currency supply dwindling, I came up about a dollar short. Hopefully the woman's family can come up with enough cash for her to finish the treatment.</div><div><br /></div><div>Malaria season is just kicking into high gear. Last August, of the hundred or so cases at the clinic, seven people died. This August, I am going to try to increase my ground time at the clinic and cover the Malaria season in video.</div><div><br /></div><div>The other case was a young girl who was bitten by a snake. Again, the lack of drugs means that she will not be able to receive the anti-venom she needs to make a reasonable recovery. They started her on a course of antibiotics to prevent infection, but once necrosis sets in she will have to be sent to a better clinic, perhaps in Malakal (quite some distance from here). </div><div><br /></div><div>The drug situation is a tough one. Even if we were to have a ready supply of drugs in Juba, like most other supplies, it is near impossible to get them up here. A better solution would be to purchase them in Ethiopia and transport them overland by LandCruiser and quad bike. Unfortunately, the government has a seemingly unofficial policy of "Ethiopian drugs are for the Ethiopians" and it is impossible to get a large quantity of drugs cleared by customs. What needs to happen is a huge stock up of drugs at a central field depot where the clinics can make a long (but possible) LandCruiser trip to pick them up as needed. Especially in anticipation of malaria season. Unfortunately, given the realities on the ground and the difficulties of transport, the drug supply issue is one that will not be resolved anytime soon</div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-47686872692872171562008-07-17T09:20:00.008+03:002008-07-17T21:09:50.238+03:00Home Sweet Home...at Least for Another Seven WeeksThe town of Pagak is literally in the middle of nowhere. To get here, you either need to hire a private plane, bum a ride on a cargo flight, or drive across Ethiopia to the border and hop on an ATV or a dirt bike for the rest of the way. If you can manage to get here, Save the Children has a pretty permanent looking compound here right next to the dirt airstrip.<div><br /></div><div>From the airstrip you walk down a dirt "road" that has been gutted with deep channels from our LandCruiser as it tries to avoid getting stuck in the mud. You walk down said muddy path for about 30 seconds and knock on the corrugated tin sheet metal that forms the compound gate . Eventually a guard will wander up, unlock the door and let you in. </div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3122/2671095585_c59f6cb5df.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>Inside, we have about 10 or so little buildings, tents, huts, or other forms of enclosed space to work out of or get away from the rain. The largest is the Dining Hall (or Dining Hut). Its a sweet wood and mud room covered with grass and topped off with a giant UNHCR tarp. About once a month, some of the local staff re-muds the walls to fill in the cracks and crumbled exterior. Outside are the two satellite dishes that provide communication with the outside world. Provided there are no clouds or rain, that is. Inside, we have our meals (Spaghetti, rice, and baked beans--everyday!) as well as a TV and dart board. I've been hitting the darts pretty hard. When the generator kicks off at noon, in the evening, and at night, there's not much else to do. I've unwisely already long burned through my supply of books. When the office gets too full of people, the overflow head into the dining hall and set up shop.</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3178/2671950524_4d3ce88791.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3069/2671950526_b9bde433e7.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>The office itself is actually pretty small--just a one room tukul. But inside we have five desks, printers, and most importantly--wireless internet. Although it becomes impossible to use once more than a few people are using it, its one of those things that you don't fully appreciate until the generator kicks off. Because of the presence of the mighty internet, we usually are in the office until about 11 at night officially working on projects, or unofficially just messing around.</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3078/2675067526_c10efe7a2e_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3248/2675150444_9169fb861f.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>From the door of the office, you can take the network of rock paths (as the rain turns all of the mud into a deep deep soup) to either the kitchen or one of the several rooms in the compound.</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3142/2675002580_0a0c9cf704.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>Breakfast is usually pancakes or mandazi (fried bread--like an unsweetened donut) and always some hot tea with powdered milk. Nyamone cooking up some pancakes:</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3057/2674205289_823e6a7270.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></div><div>There are two types of living quarters--brick rooms and tukuls. I suppose three types--we also have two small two-man dome tents covered with tarps for overflow. All of the rooms are arranged around the perimeter of the compound, which means that at night you can hear just about everything outside--blasting <a href="http://www.teddyafro.com/">Teddy Afro</a> music, local police on patrol, and people chatting away in their tukuls. </div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3038/2673238613_8fb2cb686e.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></div><div>The winner of the compound amenities game is the hot water. That's right, hot water. A while back, someone had the presence of mind to cut in half one of the many old oil drums that we have and use it to heat water throughout the day.</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3020/2674156663_fdcd25c3e4.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>All you have to do is take your bucket walk over to the oil drum, scoop up some of the water, add some disinfectant to kill of all of the worms, bacteria, and all the other crap living in it and...bam! You've got yourself an instant shower my friend.</div><div><br /></div><div>With all of the crazy moving around that I've been doing lately and the old luggage crisis at the beginning of my trip, I didn't realize until today that I've been here for over a month now. I've started to settle in pretty well--hot water, mud, wandering goats and all. Seven weeks to go!</div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-44177693293109713542008-07-16T22:17:00.005+03:002008-07-17T08:59:44.454+03:00Way to Go MugabstersNot only has Robert Mugabe managed to intimidate his way into winning the presidency unopposed, but he's also managed to destroy the Zimbabwean economy more than economists had previously thought.<div><br /></div><div>The last estimate Zimbabwe's inflation rate was pegged at around a staggering 170,000% in February. Today it turns out that <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/7509715.stm">official assessment was revised upwards a little bit</a>. To a mere annual inflation rate of 2,200,000% This means that, while a Zimbabwean dollar would have bought you a US dollar and then some in 1980, you now only need a mere 250,000,000 of them to buy one today. Way to go!</div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-2328446524214583162008-07-16T10:50:00.003+03:002008-07-16T10:54:16.944+03:00Awesome kid de-worming party at the ECD center to be rescheduled Monday due to rain. Maybe we can have a kid scrubbing party instead. Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-53864889631917524072008-07-15T21:13:00.004+03:002008-07-16T11:02:24.985+03:00Gettin' Some Community ActionThis morning, Duncan, Judith and I went to the PHCC to meet with some previously trained Village Health guys to talk about forming a community health group to be established and run by local people with our support. As was the case with the women's group, its incredibly difficult to organize something like that within a community of people who have had public goods provided in an emergency relief situation. It doesn't help that in a place where we are wondering if it is ready for ox-powered agriculture or not, basic needs are still so pressing that people need food before they are willing to talk about organizing for things such as a community education program. And many are not getting it. Likewise, its difficult to organize a of individuals to become the primary stakeholders in a group and are willing to take ownership and leadership in its management and direction, especially on a volunteer basis. After decades of direct relief during the war, the transition from relief to development is, at times, unbearably challenging. But you have to start somewhere, even if its with a defunct community group. The objective is to organize a group of core individuals who will in turn lead the mobilization of a larger group--family, village etc.--and give them the support necessary such that the program is sustainable without the direct management by an NGO. It is not to directly provide the services or goods themselves. That way, when the NGO packs up and leaves, those services or goods can be provided sustainably by the local community. Or so the theory goes.<div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3162/2671074975_5b2bc0ee20.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>From there, I had afternoon English class. Lot's of "I am Bret" "He is Titus" "He is happy" "She is not sad" and the like. We also played a few games with flashcards of animals and vegetables. We had a 10 minute diversion over whether or not there is cabbage in Pagak. The best part of class was, though that I found a Sudanese guy who is pretty good at English and starting tomorrow will teach the class with me. I hope that if we can get him in front of the class teaching, he can maybe take over for me when I leave. It also still leaves me with about six weeks for crash course teacher training and plenty of time to come up with a curriculum for absolute beginners and the necessary materials for such a course.</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3184/2671908716_038521913f.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>I rode the good feelings on over to the NCDS compound where Judith was having her youth group meeting for a social marketing piece on the importance of education. The discussion went fine and I was feeling good until the session started to wind down. One of the guys about my age had said during the discussion that he was willing to come to these sorts of programs and support them because while he was living in Ethiopia he had to go to school barefoot and without supplies. Sometimes he just wouldn't go. Eventually a Catholic organization gave him shoes and school supplies and he seems to have a sincere desire to work with local groups on community improvement. Pretty groovy. Until he pulled me aside afterwards and asked me if I could find him some glasses because he really needed them. How do you respond to that? There are a lot of great groups that collect used glasses donations and ships them to areas around the world where they are needed. Unite for Sight provides people in developing areas with free eye exams and corrective surgery. I had to tell him that I just don't have any glasses but that I would look into some things and get back to him tomorrow. I thought maybe there is an organization or something that I could contact and while I couldn't get anything to him per se, maybe we could work something out in the future for the rest of the community. The sad reality is that even if there were a supply of glasses ready to be distributed and sitting in Juba, the only way to get anything into Pagak is via a $3000 charter flight from Juba or via Addis Ababa and a punishing overland trip across Ethiopia. Sudan's infrastructure is just so poor that even something like eye glasses will remain unavailable in Upper Nile for quite some time. </div><div><br /></div><div>In Cambodia, these things really wore me down. I remember the girl who would learn your name and then find you everyday to ask for just a little bit of money. Over the years I've become a bit hardened to people asking me for things or perhaps just desensitized. But still, on days like today, somebody asks me for a pair of glasses and I find myself down, brooding in the dark somewhere and sad for what I will have to tell him tomorrow. He took a piece of paper at the end of the meeting and mentioned something about writing me a letter. I hope for my own sake that I misheard him. But I know that is probably not the case. </div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-87286654110970341492008-07-14T09:04:00.004+03:002008-07-14T09:41:45.824+03:00ICC to Indict al-BashirAlthough it had been suspected of such for a while, yesterday the BBC found the <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7503428.stm">first evidence that the Chinese government has been providing military assistance to Khartoum</a>--in direct violation of the UN arms embargo on Darfur. Several Chinese Dong Feng army trucks were documented operating in the area. The UN had previously discovered that a shipment of 212 of the trucks had been imported after the arms embargo was put in place, but this was the first time that they had been documented directly.<div><br /></div><div>The trucks, after having been imported, were mounted with high powered machine guns or anti-aircraft batteries. Several witnesses reported a Dong Feng firing its anti-aircraft directly into several tukuls (wood and mud huts) during an attack on a village. </div><div><br /></div><div>Beijing also had sold A5 Fantan jets to the Khartoum government in 2003 before the embargo. The pilot training that it has provided has likewise been used to devastating effect during the all too frequent air attacks on civilians.</div><div><br /></div><div>In other news, look for <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/7504640.stm">Head ICC Prosecutor Luis Moreno-Ocampo to file charges and an indictment of Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir</a> sometime today over crimes in Darfur. It had previously indicted the his Minister for Humanitarian Affairs in connection the Janjaweed, although the government has refused to hand him over (or even recognize the court for that matter). </div><div><br /></div><div>The efficacy of the ICC aside, this will be a historic move--the first time the ICC has indicted a serving head of state. Usually heads of state have official or tacit immunity from war crimes or crimes against humanity while they are still in office. This immunity doesn't last once their term is over, which may be why Mugabe in Zimbabwe is fighting his downfall so vigorously. It is refreshing to see that what the Economist called a "blanket of protective immunity" is slowly beginning to give way to adherence to international human rights law. </div><div><br /></div><div>However, the effect of the indictment may make more difficult an already complex humanitarian emergency on the ground. There have been increased attacks on relief workers as well as AU and UN Peacekeepers. The BBC also notes that the indictment may embolden anti-government rebels sensing weakness in the capital. This especially after a repulsed JEM assault on Ombduran this May in a move that surprised many, particularly leaders in Khartoum only kilometers away. </div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-68259018791072424782008-07-13T20:27:00.013+03:002008-12-09T09:13:56.434+03:00Cancellation of Duck TVFor the past week, a family of ducks has been living outside my door. Whenever I wanted to get into my room at night or wanted to leave in the morning, I had to step over the mama duck and her four fluffly ducklings. I sort of started feeding them on my porch so they started coming around more and more. During the day, they would all come over to the dining hut, jump down off of the small cement porch and waddle around the floor looking for some food on the floor. They were awfully small little fluffy guys and its easy to get attached to company like that in a place like Sudan. <div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3113/2662822873_193091a26b.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3249/2662830315_1ea1820ce5.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3258/2662830319_5dc0a53845.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>Yesterday when I saw the mama milling about outside the dining hut only two of the ducklings were in tow. There is also a cat or some other animal that sometimes hangs out in the compound at night and has killed some of the chickens. I suppose that all animals have to eat, but I had hoped that it wouldn't be the ducklings. I kept sneaking them biscuits and what not so that they would grow up to an acceptable size a bit faster. When I turned in last night, the ducks weren't there. This morning, as usual the mama duck was outside the dining hall but this time she was alone.</div><div><br /></div><div>Its sad, maybe I've gone "bushy" from too much time here already, but I sure miss those little guys. Maybe its because Duck TV has been a real comfort and entertainment in a place where a wrong move will get you arrested by the military. Maybe it had just become part of my daily routine--get up, step over the ducks, go to bed, step over ducks. Maybe it was because a few days ago I took a nap with the door open and when I woke up all of the ducks were sitting in front of my bed waiting for me to give them a biscuit. Maybe its because they're just so damn fluffy. I wonder if the mother duck knows that her ducklings are gone. Are ducks capable of sensing something like that? I've definitely gone bushy.</div><div><br /></div><div>In a strange twist of irony, this evening during dinner, we noticed sags pushing their way around on the canvas and grass roof of the dining hut. It was the four paws of whatever cat (or cat-like animal) that had probably done the deed earlier. As we were watching them, the feet suddenly stopped and a stain slowly started spreading in between them. The cat was pissing through the roof. Had it stopped a few feet earlier, it would have deposited its pungent yellow present all over the table with our dinner. Its hard not to laugh at something like that. I suppose it is an appropriate final chapter to Duck TV.</div><div><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_xXKSt5vFxb4/SHpEWnUYtGI/AAAAAAAAAAc/uCwUCQgdFCc/s320/IMG_0365.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222561873191810146" /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_xXKSt5vFxb4/SHpF5xwKQAI/AAAAAAAAAAs/hwlgXi2Tuzo/s320/IMG_0366.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5222563576799707138" /><br /></div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-67377569230119580912008-07-13T19:45:00.019+03:002008-07-13T19:55:18.055+03:00Weekend Art Youth GroupThis was my first real Pagak weekend. Other than less frequent generator use (to keep it from breaking down) not much is really different. There isn’t really anything to do in the compound or around town so we end up just continuing with work or at least what would be work on a regular day.<br /><br />On Saturday and Sunday, Judith and Odongo put together a youth community art group for kids and teens to come together and use drawing to express feelings and ideas about issues important to them. I came along to tape it for the documentary project and record some interviews.<br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3291/2662842147_01ee2368e2.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />There are about 10 people in the group from about 15 to 18 years old. I’m not really sure where the younger kids are since those are the ones we were hoping to target. Today, the teens talked about education and drew pictures about a memory or a feeling they got from school. Most drew a picture of the school building itself, where they had gone. Most of the schools also had an Ethiopian flag, as many had gone to school in southwestern Ethiopia either as displaced persons or to receive a better education than they would in Southern Sudan.<br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3031/2662849911_52df34229e.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3199/2664682816_80e6107bc1.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /><div>One of the girls talked about how in Pagak the schools only teach up to Grade 6. For an education above that (middle or high school), they need to travel to Maiwut, which is 22 kilometers away. It’s possible to continue on there, but she said that if you didn’t have relatives there, then you’re be stuck with Grade 6. It’s much harder for girls to move away to another town or a city, even to get an education.<br /><br />On our way home from the art group, we stopped by the volleyball court outside of the Payam administrator’s building/hut. A policeman, dressed in old blue uniform and dark sunglasses, came up to us with a huge grin. He made the sign of Catholic prayer, gave us a huge two thumbs up, a slap on the shoulder and kept on wandering to wherever he was going. He reeked of booze.<br /></div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-14092223674215456162008-07-12T16:16:00.004+03:002008-07-12T21:00:26.788+03:00Getting Down to WorkI officially started my documentation project yesterday. Earlier, I had pitched an idea to shoot a promotional documentary that the country director could use to keep a record of field projects and hopefully to help push the donors our way when it comes time to renew several of the grants that the Sudan office relies upon for its operations. As I had been struggling before to define for myself my job for the next two months, I latched onto the project as a way to focus my energy while I sort of tread water in the short term.<br /><br />Early yesterday morning, I met Jeffa, the Pagak area community health organizer, at the compound. Duncan and he had arranged for me to meet and interview a mother, whose young son had about a month long stay at the Public Health Community Center with burns on 40% of his small body. I walked with Jeffa the few minutes it takes to get from the compound to the PCHH. The PHCC was pretty empty as is often the case. The PCHH only receives a case or two per day—usually Malaria. A few SPLA soldiers were hanging out, lying on the benches outside one of the buildings and chatting with one another. I met the mother who was sitting in front of the hospital wing—there are two rooms with about five beds each, one for the men and one for the women. We greeted, shook hands, and I explained what the project was for and expressed my appreciation for her willingness to talk with me.<br /><br />I was a bit nervous—this was my first case for the documentary. The mother’s smile and the happy boy, who was maybe only about a year or two old and being bounced around on his mother’s lap. I started to get all my equipment together and was utterly unprepared as the mother started to take of the child’s clothes, revealing a near continuous scar that ran from his side and back all the way down his leg. An overwhelming sense of what the boy must have felt at the time washed over me and yet I was entirely unable to empathize with such a feeling of pain.<br /><br />I clumsily set everything up and did a very short interview. Nothing too much, just tried my best to get the child’s story and be respectful of him and his mother. Even with Jeffa there to translate, the details were hard to follow. I was still distracted. The child had been burned with either hot water, hot oil, or hot something that the child had knocked over onto his body. His mother took him to the PHCC afterwards. Luckily an American couple had visited the PHCC a few months back and left some medical supplies—specifically anti-bacterial gel and disinfectant. During his month stay at the clinic, those supplies saved his life.<br /><br />I later interviewed Jeffa about the child’s case as well as the services the PHCC provides the community. The PHCC was only finished this year. “Before then, the child would have died,” he told me. Such a thing had just happened a few months ago and too many times in the past years.<br /><br />I thanked everybody there, especially the mother, who was very grateful even though I had no role in her son’s treatment or recovery. I will hopefully be working out of the clinic more in the future as I start to figure out with Duncan our plan for community health mobilization.<br /><br />Next stop was over at the Nile Interdevelopment Program (NIP) compound, where Judith, Odongo, and Titus were supposed to hold an election for the women’s group. Unfortunately, right at about the time the meeting was to start, the rain clouds opened up a torrential downpour. The LandCruiser had that day old throw up smell. When we got to the NIP compound, about 40 women crowded under the small roof of the office. Some messages were mixed and about 10 men were also there for the women’s meeting.<br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3114/2660383121_5178903745.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />The group wasn’t quite ready for an election. Instead, it was a two-hour group session to get everyone on the same page on working together as a community to address and solve educational issues and the Early Child Development Program. It’s a tough challenge to try to get a group of individuals to take charge of a program to help themselves move forward. It’s even tougher in a place like Southern Sudan, where many people feel helpless and need direct aid—food and supplies. The trick of it is to avoid the aid dependence that occurs from simply freely handing out goods. The women are motivated though. They desperately want to learn. They want their children to go to school. They want to improve their economic lot. They want someone to teach them how to make soap. As refugees in Ethiopia, they had free schools and other services provided to them in Ethiopia. In Southern Sudan, they need to take the reigns and get involved in the school, get the training and skills to run the schools and programs after the NGO’s are gone.<br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3208/2660383125_1825ecb6ce.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />There was no election. But the women’s group is moving forward. Next Friday, there will be another community meeting to keep the momentum going and hopefully after that we can have the election and get the program structures in place. It’s slow, but at least its moving.<br /><br />I took about three hours of film today. I’m having some trouble getting the audio quite right, but with a bit more practice, using my clip-on mic for interviews, and taking more time to think out my shots I should get it down. I’m getting a rapid crash-course in filming as I work. I just hope that these first few runs aren’t a total wash.Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-14902409917887250302008-07-10T21:32:00.002+03:002008-07-10T22:54:44.476+03:00Visit to the Maiwut Health ClinicToday I went with Bernhard to visit the Maiwut public health clinic and meet with local community health mobilizer and document the facilities (read: take a picture of a non-functioning bore hole). After the last intern had an unfortunate accidental photographic run in with the SPLA, we've been put under greater scrutiny and are subject to more Draconian regulation by the local Payam administrators. <div><br /></div><div>As part of the new rules that we hammered out when I met them the other day, we first stopped by their small office in the middle of town to ask one of them to accompany us to make sure no inappropriate photographs were taken. The subordinate of the two administrators, a quiet Nuer guy, jumped into the back of the Land Cruiser and we raced off to Maiwut to head off the rain clouds in the distance. Maiwut is about 22 kilometers from Pagak but on a mud "road" it takes just over an hour to get there. </div><div><br /></div><div>Along the way we stopped to pick up a few people who needed to get go in the direction we were headed. This included a couple of old Sudanese ladies, one of whom was drunk and looked like she was ready to puke as car tossed people about on the bumpy road. We swerved through the bush and avoided the muddy areas where cars usually get stuck. As we passed people on the path, most got out of the way but a few just sort of stand there staring at the car. One guy walking a defunct dirt bike stopped not far enough to the side of the road and we hit a real wet spot and slid into his bike. About an hour later (and a few apologies to passerby later), the green tangle of grass, trees, and shrub began to thin out. A lot of the small trees now had been chopped a few feet up from their base and I knew we were almost there. We gave our hitch hikers the boot and pulled into the clinic. </div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3269/2655468199_2c6522a341.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>I met with Gach, the community health volunteer at the clinic and got a quick tour. Bernhard and I went out behind the clinic to get a few pictures of the bore hole that had been recently drilled for water. </div><div><br /></div><div>Out in front of the clinic was the only public awareness sign in the county. I went up to it to get a closer look and was pretty amazed.</div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3002/2655468189_e1a3aa6e20.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3197/2655515303_a5bea73f6e.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We didn't really have much time for anything more than introductions as the storm clouds that had been looming earlier were no longer just on the horizon and the sky began to open up. We tore off home to get through the bad spots before the rain would make it impassable. Impassable means sleeping in the bush for the night or ditching the car and walking home. The ride that was merely bumpy before, took on a whole new dimension as the dirt path now became just a guideline for the direction to head. We veered and skidded through the tall grass and through brush, with the car getting some serious air time. At times, the LandCruiser couldn't get through the mud and needed some good old fashioned pushing.</div><div><br /><object type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400" height="225" data="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=55430" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000"> <param name="flashvars" value="intl_lang=en-us&photo_secret=9be93d2d6f&photo_id=2655468159"> <param name="movie" value="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=55430"> <param name="bgcolor" value="#000000"> <param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" src="http://www.flickr.com/apps/video/stewart.swf?v=55430" bgcolor="#000000" allowfullscreen="true" flashvars="intl_lang=en-us&photo_secret=9be93d2d6f&photo_id=2655468159" height="225" width="400"></embed></object><br /></div><div>Most of the time, we all just had to hang on as the driver did his best to power through the mud but avoid sliding off into the bush. For the most part he was pretty successful. At one point, though we fishtailled a little too far and the back of the car slid into a tree. </div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3031/2655515299_88b3080a70.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>As we approached Pagak again, more or less in one piece, the rain started to let up and the last leg of the road was not all that muddy. Unfortunately, the drive had taken its toll on one of the locals riding in the back and she retched all over the back seat of the Land Cruiser. And possibly all over the administrator who had insisted on monitoring my picture-taking. At least that's what I was secretly hoping from the seat in front of him. </div><div><br /></div><div>Pagak itself was dry. The storm had left it mostly untouched and we arrived in a muddy beat up LandCruiser covered in branches and leaves that looked entirely out of place considering the circumstances. I was a bit dizzy by the time I stepped out of the car, and like a late-night drunk, sort of stumbled back and forth until I reached my room and the relative safety of my bed. </div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-67555604793233054652008-07-09T08:58:00.001+03:002008-07-09T09:00:01.542+03:00Backlog 4: Nearly Home AgainWe reached the Sudan/Ethiopian border by late afternoon. That particular border crossing is really little more than a dirt trail and a collapsed bridge. I quickly hopped up on the roof of the LandCruiser to unload all of the baggage and produce that we had carried from Gambella. <br /><br />I had finished dropping down most of the bags up top, when I started to disentangle this big bastard of a woven plastic sack full of tiny red onions from the roof rack. Likely its many repeated uses and numerous days in the sun meant that any time I pulled at it to lug it upright, it developed a new tear somewhere and at one point the entire top section I had grabbed, simply tore off sending a few off the roof. As I got it over the edge, my lower back quickly send a signal that all was not well. I called Odongo to replace me up top and hobbled my way across the short metal bridge. The bridge itself is only about forty feet long, and seemed to be about ten too short. It had slipped down from one of the banks of the creek and had to be connected by a small four-foot wide concrete slab just large enough to fit a quad-bike across.<br /><br />By the time I got to the other side, the shooting pain prevented me from moving much further and I went to chill out for a few minutes on another concrete block off to the side next to some maize and a tangle of brush growing on the Sudan side of the creek. The minutes turned to an hour and I laid back closed my eyes, and tried not to move. A bit later the quad-bike arrived, and Judith and Laura loaded up some bags and headed back to the compound with David. <br /><br />I heard them drive off, the gearbox grinding and yowling as David quickly discovered the need to engage the clutch before the bike would go anywhere. Duncan walked back over the bridge and chatted with some local boys and again I closed my eyes and just zoned out. Although Duncan was not more than 60 feet away, being tucked away a few feet into the brush I felt very alone.<br /><br />It’s strange. I didn’t feel alone in a panicky way nor one that made me wish for company. Despite the pain and the heat, I felt an incredible sense of serene calm. I started to listen, and look at everything around me. Lying back, I watched the stalks of maize bow gracefully to an approaching breeze. I counted one, two, then three giant grasshoppers clinging forcefully to the underside of the long broad leaves. A sharp gust of wind would trap and entangle the leaves. A few seconds later, “pop” the leaves would suddenly free themselves and the maize would return to its rhythmic swaying, one or two grasshoppers fewer.<br /><br />I closed my eyes and listened to the insects, birds, and the kids swimming in the creek somewhere to my left on the other side of the maize and brush. To the other side, some kids and a few men gathered around a friendly SPLA soldier who had brought out a cassette player and started playing music that I could only assume was Sudanese or Ethiopian. Beyond the tattered flag flying above the small SPLA border outpost on the other side of the dirt path, a bunch of hawks were riding a hot air column in a lazy circle and slowly circled their way upward. A group of four boys, perhaps around six years old came and sat on the slab right next to me, not really caring that I was there but also making sure not to disturb me. They chattered away in clip bits of Nuer punctuated by quiet laughter. I watched them as they were talking and wondered what it must be like to grow up in the bush in a place like Pagak. They were so happy, like a couple of school kids just hanging out on a lazy afternoon. Yet their skinny arms and large bowl-shaped distended bellies belied the mood, quietly telling of severe malnourishment. The summer months mark an anxious patience, as the few crops that are planted must mature for a few more weeks before they can be harvested.<br /><br />As suddenly as they came, the four kids ran off into the brush, and quickly disappeared after only a second, leaving only the sound of rustling plants and increasingly muted child’s conversation.<br /><br />While I was laid out, entirely unmoving, birds, small butterflies, and a few other odd animals scuttled out of the bush. A small yellow bird landed sideways on one of the stalks of maize. As he hopped his way to the tip, the stalk gradually bent under his weight until I thought he might continue his dip all the way to the ground. He sat perched on one of the many grain stems, its stalk bowed in an upside down “J”, and pecked at the precious grain, sending small green husks off towards the ground. <br /><br />The world looks very different lying down. There’s a strange sense of detachment, watching everything perpendicular to what the brain is accustomed to. A young man crossed the bridge with a reluctant cow and had to put all his weight into coaxing the animal to walk up the concrete connecting slab. Behind him, an old wild-eyed man quickly strode up with a limp yelling something angrily in Nuer at the man as both went over to the smiling but entirely disinterested SPLA soldier who was sitting and tapping his feet to the Sudanese pop. Occasionally, an old Nuer woman would cross the bridge, usually carrying supplies or a baby basket atop her head, look to the left and be somewhat surprised to find a laid out foreigner lazing about in the bushes. They would stare, offer a quick “Maale” (Hello) and continue on, singing or simply muttering to nobody in particular. <br /><br />Eventually, I heard the mechanical “brrrrrrrrrr” of an approaching quad-bike and the moment was broken. David had returned and it was time for me to finish the last 15-minute leg of my journey home. For a moment, maybe an hour, I simply just was—existing with a heightened sense of the small details of life around me. For that moment in time, I felt like one of the grasshoppers in the maize, watching and listening until a gust of wind finally dragged me away.Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5047865256581656534.post-20097523058840838832008-07-08T21:29:00.005+03:002008-07-08T22:40:09.047+03:00Backlog 3: Gambella, EthiopiaOn the morning after the workshop, it was time to leave coffee, cold beer, and fresh delicious food. There was a problem for half of the Pagak crew—some of those without visas had arrived earlier that week to an airport with a closed immigration counter. Laura, Judith, and Joeseph (who had his passport, cash, and other documents stolen in Gambella a few weeks ago) had to make the 12-hour drive overland from Addis to the border. Duncan, David, and I hopped a quick 40-minute flight from Addis to Jimma and again from Jimma to Gambella near the border.<br /><br />We had an evening as well as the full next day to putz around in the small town while we waited for the other crew to join us by car. The first night, we took a somewhat unsatisfactory meal (cold beef and potatoes) at the hotel and went into the town center where the market is. David and I went into a sort of dive bar (if such things really exist in rural Ethiopia) while Duncan did some printing next door at our contact, Teshome’s, shop. I sat down on a wooden bench against the wall of a small dark room that smelled like a locker room with stale beer poured across the floor and hazy cigarette smoke wafting in the air.<br /><br />The main attractions in the room were two long tables that resembled pool tables with six undersized pockets. Teshome was challenging another guy to a game that’s name I can never remember. It took a while to figure out how the game is played, but it seemed to be a cross between pool and bocce. Players take turns throwing four balls at a blue target ball. At a base level, players must send their ball across the table to get it closest to the target ball while knocking the other player’s ball away. In the middle of the table, three tiny plastic pins resembling miniature bowling pins. A player received four points for knocking any of the pins over after hitting the target ball and two points for getting any of his opponent’s balls in a pocket. Each game takes about a minute and a half and players play until the winner reaches a specified number of points. A referee, who collects money from each player as well as bets from those watching the game, pays out the winner of the match and the process starts again with two players.<br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3046/2649910041_7fefe2f37e_b.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />The next morning I hit the market early. The market is pretty small compared to others—some used clothing, tailors, and vegetables. I went to the other side to find a guy who makes rubber sandals out of used tires. He took my foot measurements and a few hours and two bucks later I came back just as he was putting on the final touches. I sat with him for a few minutes, chewing <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">khat</span> leaves from a branch he had offered me. Its bitter but after a while has a mild stimulant effect like caffeine or nicotine. While I was sitting, one man came up to me, told me that he had a brother in Canada and asked me to take me with him. As soon as I politely declined, another told me that he had a brother in Pagak and asked me to take him back with me when I returned. Again I had to decline.<br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3201/2650448204_822f2f837b.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><div>I returned from to Teshome's shop at the edge of the market to find that somebody had started an argument with Wandera and an Ethiopian colleague over something none of us could understand. He kept demanding to be taken somewhere, but wouldn't tell us anything more coherent than that. He demanded to know who the lead driver of the vehicle was, and we each sort of buckpassed him off declining responsibility for the vehicle. "Do you like your life?" he would ask each of us before mumbling something about the vehicle. He came up to me with the same series of questions before telling me not to be afraid. "Do you like your life?" Thinking he was from immigration or the police, Teshome had him sit in the passenger seat and started to pull out all of our paperwork from the glove compartment. That's when a friend of ours who knew the man gave us a "he's crazy" gesture and we followed him out the back door of the small store our car was parked in front of. We escaped down an alley and had some tea while we tried to figure out what was going on.</div><div><br /></div><div>Inside the car, the man suddenly grabbed the UHF radio and started calling in positions and other seeming nonsense although our LandCruiser's radio is not functional. Eventually he demanded to be taken somewhere and smashed the windshield with his fist leaving a spider crack on the passenger side. Judging from the damage, I can only imagine the punishment he had inflicted on his own fist. Take him he did. Teshome drove off with him to the nearest police station to sort things out. </div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3156/2646514785_454b3e7707_b.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div>Over tea, our friend told us of how he knew the man from a while back as he had employed him in his store. He was, in fact, mentally ill and in a prior incident he had upturned and stoned a parked motorcycle. He was bright to be sure. His English had only the slightest trace of the strong Amharic accent in Gambella. He had worked for Medecins Sans Frontieres as a radio man calling in the car's position as it passed through checkpoints. His mother had died a few years earlier. His father had similarly fled Ethiopia for Kenya during a flare-up of community ethnic violence only to die during the political violence in Kenya this past December. The day before, his father's remains arrived in Ethiopia. As I heard his story, I went from feeling confused and angry to sort of just numb. How are you supposed to feel in a situation like that? Suddenly the moral clarity of the situation simply disintegrated. I heard that there is a state mental health treatment facility in Addis that he might be taken to for treatment. I seriously hope that is what happens. I hope that he is not treated poorly at the police station. It makes me sad to know that this is not likely to be the case.</div><div><br />We finished our tea and continued on. From the market we took the LandCruiser to the river to have it washed. We headed back in the direction of our hotel, stopped short of the bridge that separates the outskirts of town from the market, and pulled off onto the dirt road that led to the riverbank below. About two-dozen men were bathing on the riverbank and amongst them were a group of young guys throwing soapy water on a shiny new white Mercedes SUV owned by a church group that was half parked into the river.<br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3152/2650448202_3eeaf0a52f.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br />We pulled our beaten up LandCruiser in front of it, paid a guy 30 Birr (about USD $3) and watched them take of months of caked on dirt and grime. While the LandCruiser was getting a facelift, we crossed the bridge and headed down to a construction site on the opposite side of the river. A new little hostel/hotel is being built on the bank of the river where we will eventually stay for future cross-border trips. Our local staff guy started chatting up one of the construction workers and we sat talking and chewing fresh khat for about an hour. After an hour, we thanked him for the <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">khat</span>, picked up our car from the river, and headed back to the hotel to meet up with the overland group to retire for the night. The next morning, we hit the local market to stock up on kilo’s of beans, cabbage, onions, and other fresh food for the next few months. <br /><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3036/2650448198_2fd837ae3b.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2224/2646514823_13f54ef946.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></div><div><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3039/2646514793_927df68fdd.jpg" border="0" alt="" /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>We tied down our bags as well as well as the newly purchased sacks of freshies to the rack on the roof and piled in. Since it hadn’t rained we were able to take the LandCruiser all the way to the border, where we were met by one of the ATV’s for the last 15 minutes of the journey.<br /><br /></div></div>Contingency Plan Sudanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08681053197338652692noreply@blogger.com1