Wanderlustress

Happy New Year!!!

Christmas came and went without a sign of Santa except for a small gathering of foreigners orphaned here in Kass. We did a round-robin gift exchange of things we could find here in the market, so you can imagine stuff like you get at the Dollar Store. The locals here are looking forward to their major holiday in mid-January called Eid when they will go home to be with their families for about a week. To prepare, my staff tells me that he has to buy two sheep to slaughter for a big meal and some new clothes for his kids.

To prove that we are alive and working and not just on a world tour sipping coconut juice on the beaches of Fiji, below are some pictures.  We will ring in the new year by installing some mills, building some latrines, starting a veterinary clinic, and teaching adult literacy classes to women…as they say “Insha’allah” (God willing).

Enjoy!

Graham with a little friend at our Coke hangout.

Dee with Sheikhs and new mill shelter.

View of a camp.

Dee with the usual suspects.

Kass II

Our program staff arrived and they are eager to get started on surveying the IDP camps in Kass town so we can decide on which projects to begin where. There are a total of 16 different camps. Today, we walked through two camps and talking to Sheikhs (village leaders) and the CARE staff who were distributing relief food. These camps are particularly tight since they are in the middle of town; IDPs have taken over many school compounds. We observe camp conditions like the availability and location of water pumps, latrines, shower stations, and how clean the camp is kept. Many agencies have health/hygiene training, and water/sanitation programs, but children still shit outside of the toilets, water is not properly drained, and garbage collects everywhere.  On the more positive side, the IDP homes themselves seemed tidy and well maintained. (Unkempt homes is a sign that the IDP family is not coping well for one reason or another.) I was most surprised to see that in some of the smallest IDPs’ squares, some were trying to grow tomatoes out of plastic bags, while one home even had papaya trees! I’m keeping a close eye on that family so I can buy papayas when they are ripe.

In the evening after the office closes around 6pm, G and I like to drive around to explore the town. Tonight we checked out the western perimeter of town passed some agricultural land towards the wadi (river). Our truck almost didn’t make it as we u-turned in the sandy bottom of the dry river-bed. Not far from this spot, we saw people the other day digging for water, standing in sand up to their chests. Everything here is rare and we struggle to conserve. We limit the number of hours our electric generator runs because generator fuel and oil are not available here and must be brought up from Nyala. Water comes to us from a boy on a donkey pulling a steel drum of water. He and one of our guards then have to heave gallons of water in jerry cans up to the roof of our bathroom to fill the water tank. After seeing this exhausting effort day after day, we feel extremely guilty using any water needlessly.  

The people of Kass seem to be good tempered. We haven’t seen any signs of anger or hostility, a big surprise given what most of the people have gone through. Mostly, everyone is eager to smile and greet us after we say ‘Salom Allekum’ (Arabic greeting) or ‘Eiy-fi conga’ (native Fur greeting).  Shaking hands is big here. When you shake one person’s hand, everyone else reaches out to shake your hand, too. Smiles are big here, too, especially among the children. Whenever we appear outside of the confines of our office, immediately, kids chime a rhythm of ‘Ok, ok, ok, ok!!!’ In the camps, imagine nearly 50 kids ages 3-10 singing ‘Ok, ok, ok, ok!!!’ They follow us everywhere peaking into everything we look at and surrounding everyone we talk to. I have never been more conscious of how much we say ‘ok’ ourselves until now. The kids also scream ‘Hawaja!’ (foreigner), but G and I catch them by surprise by asking, ‘Hawaja wen?’ (‘Where’s the foreigner?!’). They laugh and laugh. Africans really have so much joy. Its energizing and puts to shame any of our complaints.

Kass I

We arrived safely in Kass after a bumpy two-hour drive, our two packed trucks flanked in front and back by two African Union (AU) vehicles literally spilling over with armed personnel. It seemed a little over the top just for two hawajas (‘foreigners’ in Arabic) to travel on the dicey road that the UN declared a ‘no go’ zone less than a month ago. Well it’s a ‘go’ now, and some agencies even opt out of the AU escort in order to maintain a policy of strict ‘neutrality’. The AU is supposed to be a neutral peace keeping force so don’t ask me why they’re not considered neutral to these agencies. I guess they just don’t want to be around any armed parties. I’m ok with it as long as those arms are not pointed at me.

Kass really feels like the middle of no where. Viewed from a distance, the town just looked like part of the dry savannah landscape we had traveled over, a few straw-roofed huts and brick walls in view. Once in town, we drove pass brick-walled compounds of Kass residents and clusters of IDP domed mud huts topped with UNICEF relief plastic rain tarps before reaching our office/guest house – a walled-in concrete house with four rooms, sand courtyard, outdoor kitchen and bathrooms. In the mid-day sun, the parched white walls glared and heat rose from the concrete floors. The room for our office had some equipment scattered about covered in plastic as if thrown hastily into a warehouse. Dust choked our nostrils and throats as we unloaded the trucks, assembled our desks, arranged our office equipment, got the generator to work, and finally turned on the ceiling fans, which immediately disturbed the family of pigeons living in the false ceiling.

A day later and the office is completely functional, with faxes, landline, email, satellite phones, and VHF radios working. Our ‘home’ is livable, too, with beds, mosquito nets, a dining table, and food in the kitchen. We even managed to watch a DVD with pop-corn and coke for entertainment. 

Our tasks for the following days will be to meet and talk to the other agencies doing work in and around Kass. Two of our staff will soon arrive from Nyala so we’ll have more translation support to get some things done for the house and office. I’ve been struggling to train the housekeeper while G has been interviewing for another security guard. We have 24 hour guard coverage although I don’t know what they’re supposed to do (they are un-armed) except open the gate for our trucks, drink tea, and sleep. Our driver drinks tea with them, too since G and I prefer to drive ourselves around town. Needless to say, a lot of people would like to work for us.

Life seems peaceful here so far and we enjoy sitting outside at night looking at the amazing number of stars and listening to sounds of Africa – a lot of singing and yelping went on last night until late, and I don’t know what was more disturbing, the dogs, roosters or donkeys – all of which are very quiet during the day. I can already hear the donkeys going at it tonight and I’m sure the dogs and roosters will join in the chorus very soon. So this is life in the middle of no where Africa.