March 1- 2, 2012
Jef Foss, ASAH board member and architect, and I began our journey to Duk Payuel on March 1st, leaving Fargo on Delta airlines at one pm. Once again, Delta's service proved both charitable and helpful, allowing us to check 15 bags of supplies for the ASAH Home and School for Girls including the panties and washable sanitary pads donated to us at our recent "Get Your Panties in a Bunch" lunch in Fargo. These panties and pads will be distribute through the school in Duk Payuel and to neighboring communities as well.
We flew Fargo to Minneapolis; Minneapolis to Amsterdam; Amsterdam to Nairobi. Nearly 24 hours later with an eight-hour shift in time we arrived at Jomo Kenyatta. At 9 pm local time, we proceeded to immigration for our transit visas—available instantly at the airport, retrieved all 15 bags and headed toward customs at the exit. The agents asked a few questions about the contents and destination of the bags and waived us through.
The driver took us to Mayfield Guest House run by Africa Inland Missions, a mission organization that flies religious and humanitarian groups into remote areas with inadequate or unsafe roads like Duk Payuel, South Sudan. Jef was to share a room with another guest, who was already in bed for the night. We stay at Mayfield on most of our trips through Nairobi, and they are often bustling with missionaries and their families and others working on projects in South Sudan and Kenya. When they are full, they ask if we are willing to share rooms.
At Mayfield I saw Samuel, one of the drivers I met on an earlier trip. Samuel procured Moringa (Olifera) seeds for us to plant at the ASAH Home and School for Girls. The plant has tremendous nutritional and medicinal value. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moringa_oleifera
From Mayfield, the driver drove me down the street to the Fairview, where Andrew and Miriam Mara, NDSU professors in Nairobi on sabbatical, are staying. Andrew and Miriam sponsor two of our Sudanese students in boarding school in Kenya. They had invited me to stay in the guest bedroom in their apartment. We all rose before dawn to travel to Wilson Airport by 6:30 am for our flight to Duk Payuel.
Showing posts with label Jef Foss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jef Foss. Show all posts
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Juba and Bor, Southern Sudan
March 21-24, 2011
On Monday the 21st, we flew to Juba, the capitol of Southern Sudan, without a visa for Jef. A friendly Jetlink agent helped us to find a contact to expedite our visa, only to learn that the only individual who issues visas had been out sick for a week and no one knew when he was expected back. Joseph Akol Makeer arranged for a GOSS representative to meet us at the airport in Juba to help Jef through customs there. My visa was still valid since my November visit.
Joseph, Kenneth Masunga, Jef Foss and I had dinner at the Oasis—a paradise-type restaurant on the Nile specializing in Indian food. Delicious Naan. We stayed at the Olympic hotel for $100 a night—wireless Internet in the rooms, toilet and cold shower, plus breakfast. When Jef and Ron Saeger were here two years ago, they spent $200 a night for a tent with no amenities.
The next morning we left with Joseph for Bor, the capitol of Jonglei State. Joseph is working for GOSS in a public relations and communications arena—a group of about 75 Lost Boys and girls from across Southern Sudan who have returned from the US, Australia, and other countries to help their homeland.
Our goal was to meet with NGOs who might provide aid for our boarding project for orphans in Duk Payuel. Our first visit, to UNHCR, resulted in a tip about an interagency meeting taking place the next morning at the governor's office.
Our hotel in Bor, the Freedom Hotel, offered three meals a day plus slow and sometimes offline Internet in the restaurant—which was always packed with NGO folks and computers. Talking on Skype to my husband, we were interrupted by various groups—he said, "This place must be some kind of NGO heaven."We met a couple guys from Platteville Wisconsin who were hoping to build a school near Bor. Some of the IRD (International Relief Development) team from Duk Payuel were also there, and we made plans to caravan with them to the village the following day.
Wednesday, the 23rd, we stopped at World Food Programme and learned how we might qualify for food aid for our program—which requires fairly permanent buildings and other amenities in place—kitchen, latrines, etc. Each person we met along the way gave us suggestions about what other groups might lend us a hand through aid or guidance of some type.
From there we headed to the inter-agency meeting, only to have the car break down a few "blocks" from a garage. Joseph caught a ride on a passing motorbike and several guys from the garage came to push the car with me steering. We left the car and a garage employee took us to the meeting. We were now 45 minutes late, but being that "This is Africa," the meeting didn't start until the governor, Kuol Manyang, arrived, 15 minutes after we did. There were about 30 people, including us, seated at long tables. Each seat had a mic, a water, and a soda. Joseph sat in the back with other visitors. The meeting lasted about 2 ½ hours with the ministers of each department in the state reporting on everything from health, to education, to cattle raiding, to physical infrastructure, and more. At the end, Joseph stood and introduced Jef and me. I was pleased to be able to tell the group about ASAH and to tell the governor that his daughter and her husband, who live in Fargo, were friends of mine. We made several contacts at this meeting who will be helpful to us in the future.
The day was long, and we made plans to leave for Duk at 7 the next morning in the caravan. But This is Africa. IRD (International Relief Development) had some shopping to do at the market (fresh vegetables, which they treated us to later that evening) and said to meet them on the main street around 9. Somehow, our driver decided NOT to drive to Duk Payuel, so IRD went on alone, and we headed out with Joseph and a new driver later that morning. Gabche, a Kenyan with IRD, gave us one of their SAT phones to carry in case of problems. What kind of problems? Well, in a three hour period on a recently built but still very rough road, we passed a couple of burned out vehicles, stopped to help a stalled vehicle get started, and passed two lorries going our way. That's it. For those of you who know I had cervical disk surgery recently—I held on to the dash handle, wore my soft collar, and sat in the front seat while Jef and Joseph bounced around the bench seats in back of the Land Cruiser. What made the road travel worth every bump were the thousands of antelope—Kob and Topi, we passed on our way, plus ostriches to boot. You can find pics on our Facebook page. http://www.facebook.com/pages/African-Soul-American-Heart/48997754057
Joseph left us off at the Lost Boys Clinic in Duk. We set up a camping tent for Jef near the containers where the ground was smooth. I'm staying in the tent of the project manager, Tom Dannon, tent as he is gone to Juba for procurement with the clinic manager, Joh Deng. Tom has offered to stay in my camping tent upon his return and let me remain in his tent which has actual beds. A true gentleman.
On Monday the 21st, we flew to Juba, the capitol of Southern Sudan, without a visa for Jef. A friendly Jetlink agent helped us to find a contact to expedite our visa, only to learn that the only individual who issues visas had been out sick for a week and no one knew when he was expected back. Joseph Akol Makeer arranged for a GOSS representative to meet us at the airport in Juba to help Jef through customs there. My visa was still valid since my November visit.
Joseph, Kenneth Masunga, Jef Foss and I had dinner at the Oasis—a paradise-type restaurant on the Nile specializing in Indian food. Delicious Naan. We stayed at the Olympic hotel for $100 a night—wireless Internet in the rooms, toilet and cold shower, plus breakfast. When Jef and Ron Saeger were here two years ago, they spent $200 a night for a tent with no amenities.
The next morning we left with Joseph for Bor, the capitol of Jonglei State. Joseph is working for GOSS in a public relations and communications arena—a group of about 75 Lost Boys and girls from across Southern Sudan who have returned from the US, Australia, and other countries to help their homeland.
Our goal was to meet with NGOs who might provide aid for our boarding project for orphans in Duk Payuel. Our first visit, to UNHCR, resulted in a tip about an interagency meeting taking place the next morning at the governor's office.
Our hotel in Bor, the Freedom Hotel, offered three meals a day plus slow and sometimes offline Internet in the restaurant—which was always packed with NGO folks and computers. Talking on Skype to my husband, we were interrupted by various groups—he said, "This place must be some kind of NGO heaven."We met a couple guys from Platteville Wisconsin who were hoping to build a school near Bor. Some of the IRD (International Relief Development) team from Duk Payuel were also there, and we made plans to caravan with them to the village the following day.
Wednesday, the 23rd, we stopped at World Food Programme and learned how we might qualify for food aid for our program—which requires fairly permanent buildings and other amenities in place—kitchen, latrines, etc. Each person we met along the way gave us suggestions about what other groups might lend us a hand through aid or guidance of some type.
From there we headed to the inter-agency meeting, only to have the car break down a few "blocks" from a garage. Joseph caught a ride on a passing motorbike and several guys from the garage came to push the car with me steering. We left the car and a garage employee took us to the meeting. We were now 45 minutes late, but being that "This is Africa," the meeting didn't start until the governor, Kuol Manyang, arrived, 15 minutes after we did. There were about 30 people, including us, seated at long tables. Each seat had a mic, a water, and a soda. Joseph sat in the back with other visitors. The meeting lasted about 2 ½ hours with the ministers of each department in the state reporting on everything from health, to education, to cattle raiding, to physical infrastructure, and more. At the end, Joseph stood and introduced Jef and me. I was pleased to be able to tell the group about ASAH and to tell the governor that his daughter and her husband, who live in Fargo, were friends of mine. We made several contacts at this meeting who will be helpful to us in the future.
The day was long, and we made plans to leave for Duk at 7 the next morning in the caravan. But This is Africa. IRD (International Relief Development) had some shopping to do at the market (fresh vegetables, which they treated us to later that evening) and said to meet them on the main street around 9. Somehow, our driver decided NOT to drive to Duk Payuel, so IRD went on alone, and we headed out with Joseph and a new driver later that morning. Gabche, a Kenyan with IRD, gave us one of their SAT phones to carry in case of problems. What kind of problems? Well, in a three hour period on a recently built but still very rough road, we passed a couple of burned out vehicles, stopped to help a stalled vehicle get started, and passed two lorries going our way. That's it. For those of you who know I had cervical disk surgery recently—I held on to the dash handle, wore my soft collar, and sat in the front seat while Jef and Joseph bounced around the bench seats in back of the Land Cruiser. What made the road travel worth every bump were the thousands of antelope—Kob and Topi, we passed on our way, plus ostriches to boot. You can find pics on our Facebook page. http://www.facebook.com/pages/African-Soul-American-Heart/48997754057
Joseph left us off at the Lost Boys Clinic in Duk. We set up a camping tent for Jef near the containers where the ground was smooth. I'm staying in the tent of the project manager, Tom Dannon, tent as he is gone to Juba for procurement with the clinic manager, Joh Deng. Tom has offered to stay in my camping tent upon his return and let me remain in his tent which has actual beds. A true gentleman.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
2011 Travel to Southern Sudan
I'm in Nairobi. Arrived at Mayfield Guesthouse with Jef Foss, ASAH board member and architect. The trip started out a little rocky at the Fargo airport when I reached in my travel wallet money pouch and handed the agent my passport. She said this, "This isn't a passport." Incredulous, I examined it more closely. It was a small black paper Moleskin journal. It resembled my passport in size and heft, and my yellow fever vaccination certificate stuck out beyond the edges. I couldn't believe it. I'd packed it weeks ago and just that morning, peeked in the wallet to ensure myself of its presence. When Norm asked, "Do you have your passport," I lifted the wallet around my neck and said, "Got it right here!" I had peeked inside earlier and was rewarded with the frayed yellow edges I saw. Frayed because I'd traveled with it last fall.
As I searched through every nook and cranny, Norm helping, Jef remained as calm as the Delta agent who, as have others in the past, allowed us extra free checked bags for our humanitarian work (thanks Delta). Both Jef and the agent were "confident" I'd find it. Then, my memory flashed to the file I keep marked "Travel Africa." I envisioned that faux passport with the yellow edges, saw myself selecting it and putting it in my packing pile without close examination. And searching my brain I found NO recollection of opening the safe in our storage room, the safe where we keep important infrequently-accessed things like passports. So Norm and I raced to the car as I gave thanks that we lived downtown only a short drive from the airport and that I'd told Jef to meet me at the airport a full 2 1/2 hours before flight time--never mind that he was on time and I was late.
What happens if you don't find your passport? You don't leave the country. The fact that I'm writing from Nairobi tells you I found the little book with the replacement yellow fever certificate Cass Public Health had given me last November when I couldn't find mine. Hadn't remembered I had a "Travel Africa" file from the 2007 trip.
We settled into Mayfield Guesthouse after closing hours. The security guard gave us our keys and suggested we whisper so as not to wake the other guests. Mayfield is owned Africa Inland Missions along with AIM Air, who will transport our cargo and pick us up in Bor, Sudan to take us to the village. They cater to missionaries and folks like us doing humanitarian work. The rooms are comfortable and clean, toilets and showers down the hall. Sink in the room. They serve 3 meals with the cost of the room, but you have to tell them if you'll be there to eat. And meals are prompt. When the bell rings, you move to the dining room, take a seat for the family-style service, followed by prayer and comforting homemade food. At breakfast we sat with a family who have been working as missionaries in Kenya for 17 years, their daughter now visiting from college in London. At dinner, we sat with a young woman from Madison, Wisconsin who works as a consultant for the state government, smack dab in the midst of the fiscal brouhaha. She's here for a wedding, so I'm not sure how she learned about Mayfield. There was a young English couple, but I didn't talk with them much because I sat next to an 82-year-old man who was President of World Vision in the 80's. He built the enormous Baptist church near Mayfield and all the buildings around it. And in April returns to the pulpit there for a period. He's a Scot educated at Harvard. As sharp as the cliched tack.
But, before dinner, we had intentions of hopping a flight to Juba, the capital of Southern Sudan. In fact, we'd bought our tickets before we left the airport upon arrival. When we went to check in, they wouldn't let Jef board because he didn't have a Visa. Silly me. I thought it was like to old Southern Sudan where they were almost optional. On my last trip, AIM got me my visa, and originally we were going to fly in with them, but our plans had changed, and I figured we could get the visa on arrival, the way you do in Kenya. The agent rewrote out tickets for Monday and we left.
Before we returned to Mayfield, we stopped at the local hospital because Mumias, the driver I used on my last trip, was feeling ill. Don't worry, he wasn't driving. We all rode with his friend Patrick as the day before our arrival, Mumias was rear-ended so hard his car was pushed into the car in front of him. This is a disaster for a driver, and though insured, the cost to pay the adjuster to survey the damage would equal or exceed the cost to fix the car, which he figures will be about $300, a small fortune. This body work would be thousands in the US, but we visited the car shop and the work is pretty much four guys in white coats with wrenches, crowbars, and paintbrushes.
In the morning, we'll go to Kenya National Bank to try to open an account--they have locations in Southern Sudan as well, but you're advised to count your money yourself in front of the teller before exiting. And we will deposit the cost for the GOSS visa and get a receipt--the airport agent gave Jef a contact name there. Take the receipt to the GOSS office--these are all close to Mayfield--and then return to the airport to fly to Juba. So far we don't have a hotel, but there's a chance Joseph will meet us there, along with Kenneth, Jef's Sudanese friend from Fargo, OR we'll call Jeremy Groce's colleague John who Jef sat next to all the way from Amsterdam to Nairobi. Jeremy is our board member who worked six years in Kenya and Sudan, starting Sudan Radio Services, the first station to broadcast into Southern Sudan after the war. They broadcast 10 different languages.
BTW, Mumias doesn't have malaria, his first fear, or any other bad disease. The doc thinks it may be stress, but there's no rest for the weary. Tomorrow, he has to see if our geodesic dome gets through customs, where it's been held up. Pacific Domes is helping too. It has to get to AIM to travel with the rest of our cargo on the 24th.
I've found these things tend to work out, though not always the way you expect.
As I searched through every nook and cranny, Norm helping, Jef remained as calm as the Delta agent who, as have others in the past, allowed us extra free checked bags for our humanitarian work (thanks Delta). Both Jef and the agent were "confident" I'd find it. Then, my memory flashed to the file I keep marked "Travel Africa." I envisioned that faux passport with the yellow edges, saw myself selecting it and putting it in my packing pile without close examination. And searching my brain I found NO recollection of opening the safe in our storage room, the safe where we keep important infrequently-accessed things like passports. So Norm and I raced to the car as I gave thanks that we lived downtown only a short drive from the airport and that I'd told Jef to meet me at the airport a full 2 1/2 hours before flight time--never mind that he was on time and I was late.
What happens if you don't find your passport? You don't leave the country. The fact that I'm writing from Nairobi tells you I found the little book with the replacement yellow fever certificate Cass Public Health had given me last November when I couldn't find mine. Hadn't remembered I had a "Travel Africa" file from the 2007 trip.
We settled into Mayfield Guesthouse after closing hours. The security guard gave us our keys and suggested we whisper so as not to wake the other guests. Mayfield is owned Africa Inland Missions along with AIM Air, who will transport our cargo and pick us up in Bor, Sudan to take us to the village. They cater to missionaries and folks like us doing humanitarian work. The rooms are comfortable and clean, toilets and showers down the hall. Sink in the room. They serve 3 meals with the cost of the room, but you have to tell them if you'll be there to eat. And meals are prompt. When the bell rings, you move to the dining room, take a seat for the family-style service, followed by prayer and comforting homemade food. At breakfast we sat with a family who have been working as missionaries in Kenya for 17 years, their daughter now visiting from college in London. At dinner, we sat with a young woman from Madison, Wisconsin who works as a consultant for the state government, smack dab in the midst of the fiscal brouhaha. She's here for a wedding, so I'm not sure how she learned about Mayfield. There was a young English couple, but I didn't talk with them much because I sat next to an 82-year-old man who was President of World Vision in the 80's. He built the enormous Baptist church near Mayfield and all the buildings around it. And in April returns to the pulpit there for a period. He's a Scot educated at Harvard. As sharp as the cliched tack.
But, before dinner, we had intentions of hopping a flight to Juba, the capital of Southern Sudan. In fact, we'd bought our tickets before we left the airport upon arrival. When we went to check in, they wouldn't let Jef board because he didn't have a Visa. Silly me. I thought it was like to old Southern Sudan where they were almost optional. On my last trip, AIM got me my visa, and originally we were going to fly in with them, but our plans had changed, and I figured we could get the visa on arrival, the way you do in Kenya. The agent rewrote out tickets for Monday and we left.
Before we returned to Mayfield, we stopped at the local hospital because Mumias, the driver I used on my last trip, was feeling ill. Don't worry, he wasn't driving. We all rode with his friend Patrick as the day before our arrival, Mumias was rear-ended so hard his car was pushed into the car in front of him. This is a disaster for a driver, and though insured, the cost to pay the adjuster to survey the damage would equal or exceed the cost to fix the car, which he figures will be about $300, a small fortune. This body work would be thousands in the US, but we visited the car shop and the work is pretty much four guys in white coats with wrenches, crowbars, and paintbrushes.
In the morning, we'll go to Kenya National Bank to try to open an account--they have locations in Southern Sudan as well, but you're advised to count your money yourself in front of the teller before exiting. And we will deposit the cost for the GOSS visa and get a receipt--the airport agent gave Jef a contact name there. Take the receipt to the GOSS office--these are all close to Mayfield--and then return to the airport to fly to Juba. So far we don't have a hotel, but there's a chance Joseph will meet us there, along with Kenneth, Jef's Sudanese friend from Fargo, OR we'll call Jeremy Groce's colleague John who Jef sat next to all the way from Amsterdam to Nairobi. Jeremy is our board member who worked six years in Kenya and Sudan, starting Sudan Radio Services, the first station to broadcast into Southern Sudan after the war. They broadcast 10 different languages.
BTW, Mumias doesn't have malaria, his first fear, or any other bad disease. The doc thinks it may be stress, but there's no rest for the weary. Tomorrow, he has to see if our geodesic dome gets through customs, where it's been held up. Pacific Domes is helping too. It has to get to AIM to travel with the rest of our cargo on the 24th.
I've found these things tend to work out, though not always the way you expect.
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