June 21, 2012
It shouldn't be that hard to see the sun rise and set in a place where the rising happens after six am and the setting happens around seven pm. When I used to stay at the JDF Lost Boys clinic, the rising sun greeted me through my huge tent windows. I used to cover my eyes to stay in that dreamy just-awakened state. Soon the unzipping and zipping of tent doors, the creak and clang of the supply container doors, and the voices of the other early risers announced the day. At dusk, the expansive view to the west offered a gorgeous sunset except when the overcast sky obscured it.
I've been at the ASAH School compound for 11 days, and today was the first time I witnessed either. I've been meaning to rise early enough to catch the rising sun, but my tukul is dark dark dark, and though the light peeks through the two tiny windows, it isn't enough to rouse me, and there is no colorful view to entice me from my bed. I am generally wakeful early mornings, but I haven't been willing to brave the early a.m. mosquitos. Until today.
I jumped up at the first hint of light, grabbed the videocamera, and found I had to walk all the way to our garden to see the sun rise. Our housing area is completely surrounded by trees which makes for lovely shade - a comfortable respite from the often-blazing sun, but it also blocks the view. Today's sunrise was unspectacular for Africa. It can do better. So I'll take another shot tomorrow.
The sunset, however, did not disappoint, though I had to walk to our volleyball court which is near our temporary kitchen, the security guard's tukul, and the gate to see it. Still, that meant viewing through the fence, and I wanted a picturesque "framed by trees" view. Through the gate just ahead to a spot where a couple of palms, one silhouetted in the foreground, one in the middle ground, shaped color around the gorgeous flaming orange ball as it sunk into the horizon.
Showing posts with label JDF Lost Boys Clinic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label JDF Lost Boys Clinic. Show all posts
Friday, June 22, 2012
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Arrival in Duk - Monday June 11
Up at 4:30 am for 5:30 loading of the van with ten pieces of luggage from the Mayfield container. At AIM Air I learned they already had 900 kg from Jeti's purchases on our behalf - food and some building supplies, beds and mattresses - and I had 276 kg with me. The Caravan can carry 1000 kg, and we also had passengers in addition to me: two clinic staff: Lillian, a midwife, and David, a lab technician. Prioritizing: I decided to leave behind the beds and mattresses.They're heavy and bulky. After referring to my content list. I list the contents for each bag or tote as I pack and indicate priority items. From here it's the pilot's decision. We had to leave a container of oil, a bag of potatoes, and a bag of beans to accommodate the luggage for Lillian and David.
Nate is our pilot, a young guy I've flown with before. It took a long time for customs to clear all our bags. We finally got off the ground about 8. Now at 9:20, we are arriving in Eldoret, Kenya to refuel. Then on to Juba, the capitol, where we must go through immigration for our Visas.
We were not able to pull up as close to the airport in Juba as in the past, but we arrived when no other larger planes were on the ground, so there was no wait at immigration. We caught a ride to the terminal and back with one of the airport crew, then $100 a pop for a single entry Visa to Republic of South Sudan. No multi-entry visas available.
The Lost Boys Clinic staff had reported to me that the airstrip was flooded on Friday, but they were working to drain it. Part of a dike had given way. Though it is the rainy season, this is about two months early for the type of flooding they are experiencing.
The strip was nice and clear for our landing, and there was a huge crowd to greet us. Our girls in their red uniforms stood together waving. Many people assisted in unloading our heavy cargo. Most of my bags were 50 + pounds, and we also had 50 kg bags of beans, potatoes and other foodstuffs. The bigger problem was how to get it all to our site. Even if there was a working vehicle in the village, which there is not, the roads are flooded ankle to knee deep - impassable by car.
If you saw our girls heft these huge bags on their heads, some of them walking without even a hand held to steady the bag, you wouldn't believe it. I've seen it many times, but it always amazes me. And they can carry these heavy loads a great distance. The walk to our site from the airstrip takes about 20 minutes through the water. I didn't even have to carry my backpack as it was spirited off my back and onto Akuol's, one of our ASAH girls.
Nate is our pilot, a young guy I've flown with before. It took a long time for customs to clear all our bags. We finally got off the ground about 8. Now at 9:20, we are arriving in Eldoret, Kenya to refuel. Then on to Juba, the capitol, where we must go through immigration for our Visas.
We were not able to pull up as close to the airport in Juba as in the past, but we arrived when no other larger planes were on the ground, so there was no wait at immigration. We caught a ride to the terminal and back with one of the airport crew, then $100 a pop for a single entry Visa to Republic of South Sudan. No multi-entry visas available.
The Lost Boys Clinic staff had reported to me that the airstrip was flooded on Friday, but they were working to drain it. Part of a dike had given way. Though it is the rainy season, this is about two months early for the type of flooding they are experiencing.
The strip was nice and clear for our landing, and there was a huge crowd to greet us. Our girls in their red uniforms stood together waving. Many people assisted in unloading our heavy cargo. Most of my bags were 50 + pounds, and we also had 50 kg bags of beans, potatoes and other foodstuffs. The bigger problem was how to get it all to our site. Even if there was a working vehicle in the village, which there is not, the roads are flooded ankle to knee deep - impassable by car.
If you saw our girls heft these huge bags on their heads, some of them walking without even a hand held to steady the bag, you wouldn't believe it. I've seen it many times, but it always amazes me. And they can carry these heavy loads a great distance. The walk to our site from the airstrip takes about 20 minutes through the water. I didn't even have to carry my backpack as it was spirited off my back and onto Akuol's, one of our ASAH girls.
Monday, March 19, 2012
Throwing Out Best Laid Plans
March 5, 2012
The plan was: Leave Fargo March 1. Arrive Nairobi late evening March 2. Fly with AIM Air to Duk Payuel on the 3rd. Move into the ASAH Boarding School for Orphan Girls and help orient the first twelve ASAH girls into the place they will call home during the school terms. Stay until the 16th and fly with AIM to Juba, where I will stay for a week with Manyok to procure materials and supplies for our compound, and the Maras and Jef will fly JETLINK to Nairobi.
Soon enough it became clear that if we wanted the ASAH girls to move in while we were present, Manyok and I needed to go NOW to Juba to procure the materials to fix the water tower. If you watched our exciting video of the raising of the tower, you know that I left Duk Payuel expecting that very soon we would have functioning toilets and showers. It was not to be. The steel tube platform on top of the tower had been welded with the four -inch side of the 2 X 4 inch tubes laying flat instead of skinny side up, which offers greater strength. When our tank was filled with water, the tubes began to bend. The tank was taken down. It still provides water but is not at a height to provide water pressure to run the toilets and showers.
As it seems to go, as the need arises, opportunity presents itself. IMA World Health, the new medical group that may or may not take over the neighboring NGO compound now being vacated by IRD, had a car traveling to Bor, the capitol of Jonglei state. This is about 125 miles, I believe, though the drive takes five or more hours. I'm not sure that 125 miles is an accurate measurement, but that is what people have told me, and it seems about right. The road conditions are so bad, the vehicle is sometimes traveling at only 10 or 20 km per hour. This is the kind of ride where the handles above the doors and on the dash are held.
When I asked Mike Wagner, former JDF clinic manager, if we could hitch a ride—he said, "Are you willing to sit in the back?" As it turned out, I shared the middle seat with two men, and Manyok sat with the luggage and a Sudanese woman on the bench seats in the back of the Land Cruiser.
During the long and rough ride, I got to know Kon, one of the clinic staff, a little better. He's a quiet guy amongst a lot of boisterous Sudanese at the JDF clinic, so we hadn't talked much in the past.
My other seatmate, Jacob Nuer Deng, who works for IMA World Health in Juba, asked me where I lived in the US. When I said "Fargo," he said, "My sister lives in Fargo." "Who's your sister?" "Sarah Deng." "I KNOW Sarah," I said. "She spoke at our Get Your Panties in a Bunch Lunch in 2011, and she attends Christ the King Lutheran Church in Moorhead which is currently raising money so that we can bring more girls into our program."
You don't know how small the world really is until you meet someone new in South Sudan whose sister lives in your community in the United States—especially when the community is the size of Fargo-Moorhead. Miriam remarked that it's strangely comforting, and I agree.
We had intended to get hotel rooms and fly in the morning, but Kon was planning to get public transport. He was on his way to visit his wife in Juba. We elected to share the cost of a taxi and keep going.
The road from Bor to Juba is longer—about 153 miles, according to a Google search—but somewhat faster at around four hours. Improved in some stretches, undergoing construction in others, but still potholed and difficult to navigate in places. We had to pull over at a bridge near Juba as a convoy of about 100 military vehicles crossed the one-lane bridge. They were part of a deployment of 150,000 soldiers heading to Jonglei state to begin disarming the tribes, to reduce the tribal violence, particularly between the Murle and the Nuer tribes, that has plagued parts of the state since independence, causing deaths and destruction of villages.
The plan was: Leave Fargo March 1. Arrive Nairobi late evening March 2. Fly with AIM Air to Duk Payuel on the 3rd. Move into the ASAH Boarding School for Orphan Girls and help orient the first twelve ASAH girls into the place they will call home during the school terms. Stay until the 16th and fly with AIM to Juba, where I will stay for a week with Manyok to procure materials and supplies for our compound, and the Maras and Jef will fly JETLINK to Nairobi.
Soon enough it became clear that if we wanted the ASAH girls to move in while we were present, Manyok and I needed to go NOW to Juba to procure the materials to fix the water tower. If you watched our exciting video of the raising of the tower, you know that I left Duk Payuel expecting that very soon we would have functioning toilets and showers. It was not to be. The steel tube platform on top of the tower had been welded with the four -inch side of the 2 X 4 inch tubes laying flat instead of skinny side up, which offers greater strength. When our tank was filled with water, the tubes began to bend. The tank was taken down. It still provides water but is not at a height to provide water pressure to run the toilets and showers.
As it seems to go, as the need arises, opportunity presents itself. IMA World Health, the new medical group that may or may not take over the neighboring NGO compound now being vacated by IRD, had a car traveling to Bor, the capitol of Jonglei state. This is about 125 miles, I believe, though the drive takes five or more hours. I'm not sure that 125 miles is an accurate measurement, but that is what people have told me, and it seems about right. The road conditions are so bad, the vehicle is sometimes traveling at only 10 or 20 km per hour. This is the kind of ride where the handles above the doors and on the dash are held.
When I asked Mike Wagner, former JDF clinic manager, if we could hitch a ride—he said, "Are you willing to sit in the back?" As it turned out, I shared the middle seat with two men, and Manyok sat with the luggage and a Sudanese woman on the bench seats in the back of the Land Cruiser.
During the long and rough ride, I got to know Kon, one of the clinic staff, a little better. He's a quiet guy amongst a lot of boisterous Sudanese at the JDF clinic, so we hadn't talked much in the past.
My other seatmate, Jacob Nuer Deng, who works for IMA World Health in Juba, asked me where I lived in the US. When I said "Fargo," he said, "My sister lives in Fargo." "Who's your sister?" "Sarah Deng." "I KNOW Sarah," I said. "She spoke at our Get Your Panties in a Bunch Lunch in 2011, and she attends Christ the King Lutheran Church in Moorhead which is currently raising money so that we can bring more girls into our program."
You don't know how small the world really is until you meet someone new in South Sudan whose sister lives in your community in the United States—especially when the community is the size of Fargo-Moorhead. Miriam remarked that it's strangely comforting, and I agree.
We had intended to get hotel rooms and fly in the morning, but Kon was planning to get public transport. He was on his way to visit his wife in Juba. We elected to share the cost of a taxi and keep going.
The road from Bor to Juba is longer—about 153 miles, according to a Google search—but somewhat faster at around four hours. Improved in some stretches, undergoing construction in others, but still potholed and difficult to navigate in places. We had to pull over at a bridge near Juba as a convoy of about 100 military vehicles crossed the one-lane bridge. They were part of a deployment of 150,000 soldiers heading to Jonglei state to begin disarming the tribes, to reduce the tribal violence, particularly between the Murle and the Nuer tribes, that has plagued parts of the state since independence, causing deaths and destruction of villages.
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