Jebel and Juba

When I first arrived, I made a French friend named Etienne.  Etienne promised that he'd take me to climb Jebel, which is a 'big hill' just outside of town.  Juba is growing so quickly that Jebel will soon be within the town limits - Etienne told me that the town grows about 1 kilometer each year.

So we drove out to Jebel, which means mountain in Arabic.  It's a bit of a scramble to get up the hill.  On the way up, we passed several guys breaking rocks.  They burn underneath the rocks to release them from the ground and make them easier to crack.  Then they roll them down the mountain, and truck them into town for various construction projects.  As the locals rip rocks off the mountain, they also are cutting down trees for firewood.  It's really sad to see the complete destruction of somewhere that could be a longterm economic money-maker AND a green tourist attraction.  There's also a slaughter house right at the foot of the hill, which brings vultures and flies swarming.  yum.

The climb takes about 25 minutes, and there are lots of lovely views on the way up - but when you get to the top - you have a 360 degree view of Juba and the surrounding burroughs.  So beautiful!  There's a great view of the Nile snaking past Juba and heading on up to Egypt.  We had a cloudy day, which was actually perfect, because the sun would be scorching at the top of the hill.  Sadly, in addition to local destruction of ecosystems - somebody wrote Russian graffiti on the top of the rocks :(  what is wrong with people?!?

Lots of people were already at the top when we got there, but they mostly left.  There were even campers (although that's illegal).  You know what else was up there?  Ravens, vultures, and crows.  And they dive bomb people.  For someone who hates birds (have I told the pigeon story yet?), this is not ok.  I wanted to throw things at them, but all the rocks had been rolled down the hill!  urgh.

All in all, a great hike - good to breathe the air outside of Juba (not quite so dusty), see the sites, and scramble over rocks.  Etienne also stopped by the Juba Cultural Center on our way back, and I got to take a look at the casino... who knew Juba had a casino?  So fun.  I wonder if I can find my way up the big hill by myself next time?

Country of Paradoxes

The restaurant where I'm working has a new electronic system for payment.  The waitress is using it to play spider solitaire on the computer, while her assistant waitress wrote out my bill by hand.

Yesterday, my driver pointed and said, "the office is down that road," and then he drove right by the road.

I was talking to a potential recruit on the phone to set up a meeting.  When I got back to my computer, he had emailed me his phone number.

I was at a meeting where my interviewee burped three times.  During our meeting.

Logic.  It's something maybe we aren't born with, but at least we develop it from an early age - based on norms and societal rules, right?  No?  Not here.  Logic is a foreign concept.

Twice in the last 2 days, I've given my introduction to Chemonics (my company), held the meeting, and then at the end - the interviewee said, "Now, what is this organization you work for?"

Yesterday someone told me his goal was to brainwash all the youth of this country.

The first week I got here, a plane crashed on the runway in Yambio.  Nobody had any equipment to move the plane, so it just sat there - and travelers were stranded for several days in every direction.

Last night I had drinks with someone espousing the Do No Harm principles of disaster relief, while simultaneously admitting that that relief creates a culture of dependency (i.e. longtern development nightmare).

My bathroom has black mold growing along the grout, despite the fact that Bernadita, the cleaning lady, comes every single day to clean.  So, I bought some vinegar and have begun scrubbing a little bit each day (thank you, LL, for that cleaning tip!).  I thought maybe Bernadita would get excited or get involved, but nope - she leaves the black mold to me.

Foreigners in general are unwelcome here, but especially those from East Africa.  So much for warm hospitality and African pride!

Two weeks ago, the flag raising ceremony was taking place - and a driver continued driving when he was instructed to stop (out of respect).  SPLA soldiers shot and killed not the driver but the passenger.  Senseless.

Everywhere I go, people talk about building capacity - capacity, capacity, capacity.  Yesterday my driver told me, "these people are all raised in the bush - they only know the life of war."  This is part of the problem - but it can't be the whole story.

Jerry's Journey

Friends, I realize you may be wondering how our friend Jerry is getting along - (the bug that I found in my bathroom, remember?).  Well, he has been quite busy - Thursday and Friday he made two circuits around the walls of the bathroom.  This is as far as I know - he may have made more, but I only was around for 2.

Then Saturday afternoon, he perched right next to the bathroom door for a few hours, and eventually snuck his way out of the bathroom into the main bedroom.  I know, big exciting stuff for a big bug!  He really could have done this at any time, because the bathroom door is at least 2 inches off the ground - but I didn't tell him that.  Some things a bug must learn on his own.

All this while, I've been reminding him of our pact - official isolationism.  I don't kill him, and he doesn't lay any eggs (or leave the bathroom, but he modified that part slightly).  Despite Jerry's liberal interpretation of our pact, I left him to wander my room unhindered - he really is an explorer at heart.

Well, when I arrived home um, late Saturday night (ok fine, it was really Sunday morning) - tragedy!  I found Jerry sprawled out near my "vanity" area (really just a sink where I put my vitamins and toothbrush), on his back!  quelle horreur!  Pauvre Jerry, what will we do with him?  I thought he was dead and was goign to scoop him up and give him a proper burial, until I saw a slight wiggle of one of his antenna.  Folks, Jerry is still alive at this moment - I don't have the heart to kill him.  I really don't know what step to take, but I fear his time is near.


*quick note to say, yes, there are other things happening here than me sitting around watching a mammoth winged grasshopper who may or may not have a stinger wander around my room.  I just thought you might enjoy this peak into rustic Juba life.

Finding friends

Isn't this one of the hardest things to do? I won't get into all the crazy high-school-esq awkwardness of making friends - but let me just say that making friends in a place like Juba is tough. You have 4 basic categories:
1. the Lifers. This is the top echelon - they've been here through the hard times, and have earned the right to hang out in the good times too. These folks are there for at least 12 months or more, and they have seen LOADS of people come and go. They are jaded, and they have gotten over it just enough to stay here indefinitely. They know everything (they may even tell you some of what they know, so listen closely), and they deserve respect. Yesterday, I met someone who said she will stay in Juba forever. I *almost hugged her on the spot, and I did in fact ask if I could be her friend.

2. the Don't Bothers. These folks are here for 2-4 weeks, and they're not coming back. Don't bother trying to get to know them - they are loud and looking for a good time. They'll definitely show up at the Saturday party, make out with the dude we all know you shouldn't make out with, and then be gone in the next week. Their names are probably Joey or Jenny or Bill or Britt. Something American that you'll never remember. these people are the reason I don't remember small details.

3. the Middies. These people are here for 6 months or so, and can't wait to tell you everything they know about Juba (or wherever)... These storytellers talk about their worms, their trips to the field and their run-ins with the police, each topping the last person's story with their own. It's possible you could find friends here in this group- the best way is to ask about their life story... obviously.

4. the Scrubs. yes, TLC, said it best, "I don't want no scrub, a scrub is a guy that can't get no love from me..." You may recognize the scrubs from one of these attributes:
-they will try to impress you with a. random knowledge, b. a feat of strength, c. their connections around town, d. their cool motorbike, and always with e. their popularity
-they will be your best friend in a minute- offering free tips, rides, coffee, or where to find fuel tomorrow
-they will have all your information (phone numbers, email address, and skype deets) before you know what hit you

-and then they'll try to get with you... as if those first three things have earned the right for a shagfest.

it's ok, though, once they realize you're not available or interested - they move on quicker than a mosquito bite to the next new girl in town. just brush 'em off, unless they are seriously persistent - then you can tell them, "You're creeping me out," which normally works.

So, what do you do to make friends? When I asked someone this, he told me: "Find something in common to talk about, invite to booze, follow up." I'll let you know how it goes--

Maladies and malarone

Amongst all the extras that I packed to come here (extra socks, extra tampons, extra vitamins, extra hair ties)... extra antibiotics were not included.  Why?  Because I'm tough, and I almost never get sick... not until I got to Juba.  I never take malaria meds, I use a filtration water bottle, and my stomach is made of iron - well, until I got here.  That's when I discovered if you are healthy one day, you'll most likely be sick for the next two.  Don't bother with preventative vitamins, they have little effect.

Part of the problem is that you never know where you are actually catching this or that bug from.  When I first arrived, it was from rinsing my toothbrush with sink water (that was dumb, I admit it).  Then I spent a couple weeks with hourly headaches... maybe too much caffeine?  Or maybe it was the lettuce in my salads?  Now, having just been back from Kampala for 1 week, I spent the last two nights clutching my stomach and begging the pain to go away.  I slept 12 hours last night (thank you, aleve).  But I also forgot to bring tylenol and enough cipro for the next three months... guess I will be surviving on pepto and aleve.

I know I'll be fine eventually - but these illnesses are more debilitating here than they would be elsewhere.  When I woke up yesterday, I felt fine - but by noon, I felt pretty miserable and didn't want those spicy thai noodles.  By 5 p.m. I was canceling my evening meeting, pumping my body full of napricin, and wondering why both my head and stomach were hurting, how does that even work?  Today, it's 2 p.m. and I feel fine.  So far.

One of my friends has been sick every 5 days since I arrived.  He just takes a round of antibiotics and gets over it - no need to go to the clinic.  Another friend says the only way to get rid of parasites is to let them pass - you can't kill them, she says.  I think it's the climate that most surprised me - being near the Nile makes everything damp and humid, which is a fabulous breeding ground for bacteria.  There is a little bug that crawls up through my shower drain each day, and struggles to get out of my shower during the evening, and then disappears again in the morning.  Today, I woke up to a gigantic bug in my bathroom - his name is Jerry, and we have a very strict agreement that he will not be laying any eggs while he stays with me.  (he/she - I'm cool with transgender bugs.  Maybe Jerry is really Gerry, and short for Geraldine, who knows?)

Today I am healthy, and today I am thankful.  Tomorrow is anybody's guess.
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just one quick addendum a shout-out to my amazing mom, who wrote me this in an email this morning:
I know what you mean about facing a huge bug alone.  One time I was in Cucuta, Columbia--alone because they stopped me at the border (I had to renew my visa before re-entering Venezuela).  I woke up in the night to find a cockroach the size of a shoe--no lie.  I couldn't envision killing it, so spent the rest of the night with the light on and very little sleep!  I hope you survived your encounter with Jerry.

Doin that thing you do

Recently there have been all these articles about people who travel, expatriates, how we do - the way we are, and on and on.  I have something to say about this (I know, shocking):  People with similar experiences have a natural bond, so it shouldn't be surprising that someone can group all expats into one category and create broad stereotypes of how they act.  There is almost nothing so intense as emergency aid work in developing countries. Don't teachers and nurses and florists all have a bond too?  duh.

I was chatting with my friend Becky earlier tonight, about the dating scene, and mentioned that guys I've met overseas tend to be bad boys or cowboys or broken pasts or something that makes them dangerous.  I wonder if they also think us traveler girls are all the same too?  Stereotype traveler men.

I just finished a trek from Juba to Kampala... there is no shit show like the Juba airport, that is for certain.  Sometimes, being a woman is a really good thing - others not so much, but as I was pushing, elbowing, and clawing my way through the mob to get to the security gate, one man took pity on me and held back the crowd so that I could get through.  THANK YOU, whoever you are.  Stereotype this white girl who couldn't hack it on her own.

Kampala is having beautiful weather right now - it's about 65 degrees and sunny every single day.  I'm staying at the place which would feel like home if I were a millionaire.  Seriously, this pool actually makes me want to swim laps, this must be how the other side lives all the time.  Stereotype the millionaires.

I've been having some driver difficulty - but I keep reminding myself, this is just how life is.  Get used to it.  One day last week, the driver made me late to a meeting because he went home to change his shirt.  When I got picked up from the airport, the driver had no fuel and asked me to buy him some.  He also had a busted mirror, which was like begging to get picked up by the police.  Yesterday, my latest driver was 100% un-knowledgeable about where any of my meetings were located.  Grew up in Kampala his whole life, he said.  Ok...  Stereotype drivers.

Then I think, well if there's a reason for stereotypes - what is so wrong with them?  Believing them, acting upon them, never challenging them, right?  We all have them, right or wrong, but I loved being shocked out of my stereotypes, and I hate when people or events just confirm them even more.  Readers, what do you think?