When those "situations" become personal

As we turned the bend on the way into work, my boss pulled the car over and said, "Get out and act calm." I swiveled in my seat and saw my colleague outside her vehicle arguing with a man who was visibly angry and yelling at her. Not one to be shy, she was standing up to him and yelling right back. A policeman from the opposite side of the intersection walked over to try to address the situation, and I got out of the car and walked over with my peacemaker face on. The policeman manged to get the two of them to move their collided vehicles away from the middle of the road, the passengers in the matatus silently got down from the vehicle to surrounded me, my colleague, the driver, the policeman, and a bystander who spoke English, and the negotiations began.

Standing outside by the side of a Juba road in the rain on a Monday morning trying to negotiate with a drunken matatu driver on how much money we would pay him for his broken light after he ran into my colleague's vehicle was not how I wanted to start my week.

However, my boss obviously wanted me to deal with the situation, not this other woman, so for the second time since I've been here I was the one to negotiate with matatu drivers on behalf of other woman colleagues who were unwilling or unable to do so.

Three times the market rate for the cost of parts and labor for the broken light? Come on, two times? Doesn't matter that we had our mechanic on the phone with the policeman telling him how much everything costs on the market, the policeman just shrugged his shoulders, said, "It's raining, give him what he asks for."

After 30 minutes we accepted, "fine, here's your money," and I got the translator to translate him a lecture about him being a "very bad person" (I'm so eloquent, aren't I?). But then my boss and the colleague said "what about him hitting her?" What? When did this happen? Turns out when the two vehicles collided and the matatu driver left the car, he opened the car door of my colleague, grabbed her arm out and started hitting her arms and chest. Because I did not see that part of the incident I had no idea, but was obviously approaching the negotiations in entirely the wrong way. This new element was addressed with the policeman, who again shrugged his shoulders pointing skyward at the falling ran, and proceeded to walk away.

Given some of the proscribed gender roles in Southern Sudan, including the attitude that "If you pay cows for a woman, then of course you can beat her. If you want to give me your daughter for free, maybe we can talk." it's not surprising that we were treated this way.

Here in Southern Sudan, even though there are many different tribes, marriage customs are very similar. Generally men get married when they can afford to buy enough cows to give to the bride's family - a reverse dowry of sorts - which means they are usually in their late 20's when they marry for the first time. Men can have anywhere from 1 to 4 wives, although I've met men that have 10. Whole families help the man out (uncles, father, grandfather, etc) with the 20 to 150 cows depending on the wealth of the family and the community. Cows cost anywhere from $500 to $1,000 a head depending on the size of the cow. Generally, the larger and more crooked the horns, the better. The man pays for the wedding celebrations too. Women (often girls really) are anywhere from 15-20 when they get married, even if they are educated in other East African countries. Babies come immediately after marriage, and men can even "return" a woman to her family if she is unable to have children. This has a lot to do with society as a whole - I know women that have directly asked their husbands to marry a co-wife so they can share the burden of chores and raising children with another woman.

If it seems to you that women here are treated as commodities to be bought and sold, you're not the only one, and it is quite difficult to be here seeing it first hand.

Driving away from the incident, feeling sick inside, my stomach turned into a bottomless pit of guilt. What could I, should I, have done differently? The answer is nothing. There is nothing I could have said or done which would change how the policeman or the matatu driver viewed the situation. All they saw was a woman, and a broken headlight, and a target on which to...to...to what? To take out their frustration of having peace but not yet prosperity? To take advantage of an opportunity to make a quick and easy profit? To assert their "manliness"? To be fair there really is no way to know whether the incident was a result of them taking advantage of women or whether it was them taking advantage of khawajas (white people). Maybe a combination of both.

In the end, the policeman and driver paid for their mistake but not by our design. The colleague driving the car involved in the accident was here in Juba working for the Minister of Labour. She didn't want to say anything to the Minister, but a friend of hers did a few days later when her bruises started showing, and he proceeded to find out what happened, and find the people involved. The policeman was fired, and the matatu driver was arrested. God only knows what happens inside Sudanese prisons.

What are those two men thinking about now, looking back at things? Do they respect the fact that the law (written or not) saw them in the wrong? Will they become more bitter and act even worse if a similar incident happens again in the future? I'm not sure. But I do know that we all have a long, long way to go.

And next time, you'd better believe I will spend all day if I have to filing an official report with the police, no matter how futile the effort may seem at first.

"Hope will never be silent" ~Harvey Milk

Breaking Security Update

Breaking Security Update: "Crocodiles entered an UN agency warehouse in Wau and destroyed some food items. Wildlife officers and local police attended to get rid of the beasts."

This is probably breaking some sort of UN confidentiality clause, but I've been chuckling about this for awhile now and I don't care, this is too good not to share! I love that this is the kind of thing that gets sent out on our weekly security updates!!! Unfortunately I'm sure this incident did not end well for the crocs (I'm imagining some handbags and shoes made by Sudanese women's groups showing up on your next pair of Manolo Blahniks), but can't you just see it - dozens of people trying to corral these crocodiles and stop them from eating the WFP sorghum and beans? NOM NOM NOM...

Series 3 Landie

Got back from yet another R&R on the coast of Kenya with Simba. The vacation was lovely but once again beset with adventure. We were going to drive the 6-8 hours down to the coast from Nairobi in a borrowed series 3 Land Rover (this thing is literally 65 years old which we named Nuks. As you can see, there is no roof or windows except for the canvas tarp, no 5th gear, it is painted matte black, and is just a BEAST. When we finally got out of Nairobi and passed the 50km of crappy roads on the detour from the still-under-construction-main road, and finally hit the smooth tarmac, something in the engine went BANG. We pulled over - the water pump had broken, causing the fan to come un-welded from the pump and slash the coils of the radiator. Fun times! The water had leaked out all over the road and there was no way we were going to be able to fix this thing without a new radiator coil, new water pump, and a welding machine which is a 2 day job. Here is a pic of the tow truck owner looking at the engine.

Simba tried to flag down a truck to give him a lift back to the transit town so he could sort out a tow truck, but after about 5 trucks, no one stopped for him. I tried next figuring they would stop for a white chick, and lo and behold, the first truck I waved down slammed on its brakes for me! I read my book "A Passage to India" by E.M. Forester (LOVELY book - apparently there is a Merchant Ivory movie based on the book, and I'm going to try to see it over the holidays) in the front seat of the Landie while Simba went to the town to sort out a tow truck, and 45 mins later another Land Rover pickup which had been converted into a tow truck came to rescue us. This vehicle was almost as old as our was! Here is a pic of us being towed back to Nairobi.

Eager to get to the coast, we decided to still try to drive down, so Simba called the father of his assistant in Juba (who is also from Nairobi) who owns a rental car business, and he managed to deliver a car to Simba's house and we were off once again, made it to the coast, and spent a week relaxing. We stayed in a cottage with gorgeous sunrise views of the Indian Ocean and a kitchen which allowed us to cook prawns, calamari, and fish bought fresh from local fisherman in the mornings. One morning we cleaned and marinated a fish and put it in the fridge while we went down to the beach. When we got back, we found that the several families of Evil Ninja Cats who hover around the place scrounging for food (as can be seen in the front of the following pic) had BROKEN IN to the cottage, OPENED the fridge, and ATE ALL THE FISH!!! NOOOOO!!!! Other than that Diani Beach was fantastic and I could absolutely live in this place. If only I had even an spark of a chance of having a job that would be satisfying for more than a few months and good for my career... anyway I am back in Sudantastic Juba and will be once again working my butt off until the holidays.

Peace

Thank you

First of all, thank you so much to everyone who emailed me and sent me support after my post 2 weeks ago - it really meant a lot. I send you hugs from afar and virtual bags of Halloween candy :)

This Friday is a costume party on a "beach" bar on the banks of the Nile. They have sand and fake palm trees and everything. As Halloween is one of my favorite holidays (I never quite left my dress-up box behind...) this should be fantastic! Plus it was at the Halloween party last year (that one was an all-night pool party at USAID) when I agreed to go out with Simba, so I suppose it's technically our one year anniversary (holy CRAP!)!

I've been absolutely buried under work lately - we're quite behind on producing some communications materials which is my responsibility, so I'm trying to push those through, and we have a HUGE proposal due on Friday which would more than double my department's funding, so I'm glued to my computer with budgets and workplans and excel formulas dancing across my eyes.

To keep you entertained until I post again (hopefully on Saturday, depending on how wrecked I am after Friday night), here are a couple pictures of my friends jumping off the bank into the Nile we had from a sunday bbq on an island, and some links to read. The situation in eastern DRC is getting much worse, and here are a couple recent articles explaining the situation. How's that for a juxtaposition: expats acting like children in Sudan, people fleeing fighting in the DRC. The priorities in this life are, well, hypocritical sometimes, but everyone finds a way to justify it.

Ciao ciao,
Petunia

pirates of the indian ocean

Naughty naughty, Southern Sudan and Kenya! It is looking more and more likely that the cargo of Ukrainian military equipment seized by pirates off the coast of Somalia headed for Mombasa, Kenya were ultimately bound for Southern Sudan. I mean, I don't blame Southern Sudan for trying to build up their defenses ahead of the 2011 referendum where the North may not let the South actually form its own country, at least not with the oil-producing regions in dispute, but it's just comical how the Gov't of Southern Sudan and the Kenyan Government have been handling the whole situation. They both are saying the cargo is just for Kenya's military, the Ukraine is keeping quiet, but the freight manifest has the initials GOSS (short for Government of Southern Sudan) on the contract number. President Bashir is not going to be happy about this one!

And how strange is it that pirates still exist? I mean, I'm sure they're not the "yo ho ho and a bottle of rum" kind of pirates, but more the "give me your money/cargo or i will launch a grenade at your ship" kind of pirates, but it still seems extremely odd to me that it is possible to take a ship hostage in this day and age. How are these guys not caught??? I just want a picture of a skull and crossbones hung above a RPG...

one step forward, 2 steps back

Remember the apparently "fluke" incident with women being arrested for wearing trousers in Yei? Well, the same has now come to Juba, even being picked up by Reuters and the New York Times. And what sparked this latest rampage? County Local Order No. 4/2008 issued by the Juba County Commissioner "Banning of 'Niggers' Behaviours & Activities in the Town." This Public Order motivated Police to mount an arretst campaign against women and girls wearing trousers in streets and public places. These women were collected from streets, outside worship centers/churches, and public markets, and hauled up into police trucks. Girls were humiliated and taken into custody. This included civilians, UN employees, etc. Luckily people intervened and everyone was released with no charge.

WHAT. THE. FUCK???

And WHAT in GOD'S NAME prompted this order labeling behavior "niggerly"? What is that? And who are these people who are "now known as 'Niggers' in Juba County"? It's not like they give examples in the circular. I have NEVER heard this term being used here, and neither has anyone else (expat or Sudanese) that I've spoken with - but now it's become a joke, especially among Sudanese. From what we can tell, in this context, "niggers" are the Kenyans/Ugandans or Sudanese who have returned from those places who frequent bars and prostitutes, and, apparently, wear trousers. What it looks like is the Commissioner wanted to crack down on the drinking and other "immoral" behavior that is adverseley influencing the citizens of Juba, and this was his solution. From my perspective, I have never in my life heard people using this horrible term so freely and it freaks me out every time. Incredulous.

After these incidents the Juba County Commissioner has been sacked, and replaced by the Central Equitoria State Minister of Health (who I LOVE). But seriously. This serves as a reminder that even though we are in the South, this is still Sudan with a government in its infancy and a society that is still trying to navigate the effects of opening up the country after being effectively cut off from the outside for half a century.

things that affect your brain

Has it really been a month since I've written? It's quite insane how time flies. My blog is suffering as a result of one of my personality traits - when all is well I am very social, call and write people often, and generally reach out quite a bit. When things go wrong, or I am upset or depressed, I retreat into my own shell and tend to disappear for a bit.

My freshman year in college I had a friend named Liz. She was one of the wonderful women I met in the phase in my life where I attended frat parties in my PJs and drank cokes without any rum (was on my university's varsity soccer team and decided not to drink during the season). These boys were fantastic - they loved me all the more for my PJs and stocked up on cokes for me in their minifridges. Liz was always the most "grown up" of all of us - she held dinner parties for her friends and looked like she belonged on the red carpet even at a semi-formal dance. Some broke up with their boyfriends, some went to study abroad, and some, like Liz, morphed into a completely different person, taking on the likes, dislikes, and all characteristics of her new boyfriend. Basically, many of us grew apart. Fast forward to 4 years later - Liz was diagnosed with brain cancer. She went through surgery and treatment, beat it once, it went into remission, but then came back stronger. Liz was fading fast and I was getting updates from friends. One of whom which was her former roomate, but they had a falling out, and never really patched things up. I listened to her agonize over whether or not to send her a letter, and what it should say. What do you write to an estranged friend who is dying? In the end, Liz passed away before the letter was sent. We were all devastated. She was 24 years old.

On September 23, 2008, my friend Jason died after his own 4 year fight with brain cancer. I've never seen anyone fight for his life like he did. You can read about his life and amazing character on his blog, Team Jason. Towards the end, Jason was still incredibly upbeat, very focused on beating the cancer, and through his blog I BELIEVED he would win. His last post was just days before he died, and while very honest about the setbacks in his treatment, his attitude didn't miss a beat. Jason was the definition of an inspiration to all who knew him, and I know his memory lives on. This is the last picture that was taken of Jason, days before he passed away (as appears on his blog). Still smiling and positive as always!

Please consider making donations in Jason’s honor to the Wellness Community of St. Louis at 1058 Old Des Peres Road St. Louis MO 63131. This organization helped Jason immensely during his 4 year battle.

This time, it was me who was left with an unsent letter. I had an unfinished email to Jason I started the week before but kept putting off saying "I'll send it when I have enough time to write a proper email." But, of course, that time never came and I am left with guilt. We were not estranged in any way, but it still hurt that I never got to say all the things I wanted. As time goes on I realize more and more that it is an extremely rare thing to be able to properly say goodbye to someone and to say everything that needs to be said. A very rare thing indeed. My mother never got to say goodbye to her father, who also died of cancer, and that is something I think about a lot, how painful that must have been. But what can you do except vow to seize the moment and tell people who matter to you that you love them? I am going to try, that's for sure.

Is it strange that I have had 2 of my friends, both under the age of 26, die from the same kind of brain cancer in the past 3 years? Last time I went to get my eyes checked the opthamologist offered me some sort of a test that looks at your eye and can somehow tell if you have a brain tumor (don't ask me how this works), albeit with the statement "you're young so you probably don't have to worry about this and the test is optional." You'd better believe I got that test right quick.

Which brings us back to Sudan. I came down with malaria this past week, and althought (thankfully) it was not cerebral malaria, one of the symptoms among many including high fevers, chills, joint pain, and achiness, are headaches. Mine have kept going even though I finished my medication on Saturday. All this means is that I need to drink more water, but with each nightly throb (usually when the headaches arrive) it reminds me of all the strange and incomprehensible things that go on up there, and how lucky I am.

Is that strange and morbid?

Sorry, it's been that kind of month.

Soon to come: happier posts about my new diggs, new friends, and some upcoming travel!