Ok. I am in a predominantly Arab country, it's the end of august, and about 40 degrees celcius. I just walked by a local construction worker, playing with his cellphone (awesome, that these people are in a situation where they can afford cellphones, no?) Which ringtone do you think his phone was playing, transporting me instantly to The Twilight Zone?
Jinglebells.
JubaJoe, Tripping out...
Monday, August 28, 2006
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Rain Rain, go away...
A few words on the rain, and a few more on the skillset required for electricians in Juba...
So, I woke up this morning at the sound of the rain pounding (and, I later discovered, leaking through) the roof of number 37. I decided I should do a little bit on the rain in Juba...
It doesn’t rain often here, but when it does, it truly pours. I’ve gone to school in Norway, just outside Bergen, where precipitation is a way of life for 8 months of the year. So the frequency of rain here is manageable. What impresses is the intensity of it.
The way it works here, is as follows:
1: You start out with say, a sunny afternoon like the one below and you wait. That’s number 37, the first one on the right, by the way.
2: The wind starts to blow, and the clouds start to come in, along with distant thunder if its been a really hot day. This is Mama Nature’s way of telling you to get your behind under cover, or get it soaked. And the wind is intense. We have branches coming off trees, dust getting kicked up, frogs flying everywhere (there are almost as many frogs in Juba as goats, at the moment. I have no idea why)...
3: Then comes the water. It starts out as a drip, but within about 45 seconds it generally turns into a full-on downpour. We’re talking drops the size of eggs here, people. It really is amazing how rapidly it will soak you, if you are caught unawares. But what really amazes me, is how you notice the sound of it. Much more so, I feel, here than at home in DK. It starts out with the first few drops, and then it is as if God turns his radio to static noise, and cranks the volume up slowly but surely. It’s kinda cool...
4: The aftermath.
I don’t have any pictures of this part, but it’s pretty intense. I’ve mentioned the state of the roads before, but it serves as an excellent example. Because there is so much clay inthe soul around here, the drainage is deplorable. Obviously there are no rain gutters or any type of storm drains, sewers, etc... So there is nowhere for the water to go, but downhill. And go it does, taking dust, dirt, trash, road, frogs, and sometimes goats with it.
It leaves some roads useless until the water dries out, and forces you to take alternate routes. It’s unfortunate really, as the rain does tend to make life miserable for many of the locals, and particularly the IDP’s (Internally Displaced People = refugees, from other parts of Sudan) who have nowhere to shelter but under WFP/UNHCR issue tarps rigged up on sticks. And for them, the water just comes in under the tarp, instead of down from above. Gratefully, the water tends to dry out fairly quickly, which of course carries with it a different set of challenges, but at least they can shelter themselves from the sun.
A quick word on the skillset required from electricians in Juba.
Those of you who have either received my e-mails through May and June, or read all the earliest posts on this blog, will know that I have a somewhat strained relationship with the electricians that operate in the my camp where I live. This relationship was not improved today...
First, the power in my office went. Then it came back, I thought, Turns out it only kinda came back. The lights and A/C came back up after about 19 minutes, but the circuit supplying power to the outlets, and thus the internet, printer, computer, etc.. was fried. This was cause for much hemming and hawwing, and scratching of beards among the electrical engineers... The probed, poked, changed stuff to no avail. You see, they couldn’t find the circuit. How did they test the different breakers to see which circuit it was, you ask? Let me tell you. There was an electrician, and a electricians assistant. The electrician is a short, rotund, gentleman of middle eastern descent (Imagine Willow, with darker skin and about 50 pounds more bodymass, and you’re in the ballpark). The assistant, a tall, lanky Sudanese guy. So the Electrician stands on a stool in order to poke at the fusebox, and hopefully determine the error. At the same time, Assistant is on the ground staring at an outlet, waiting for a little light to come on, indicating resuscitation... Now, neither of the gentlemen speaks english as their first, second, or third language. Maybe their eighth... So the dialogue went something like this:
Electrician: Ok, light is on?
Assistant: No
Electrician: Light is on now?
Assistant: No
Electrician: Is on now?
Assistant: No
Electrician: Is on?
Assistant: No
Electrician: On?
Assistant: No
Electrician: On?
Assistant: No
Electrician *grunts inquisitively*?
Assistant: No
Electrician: Swears vigorously at fusebox, in arabic, indicating his failure to locate the bad circuit...
It was unbelievable...
So, I woke up this morning at the sound of the rain pounding (and, I later discovered, leaking through) the roof of number 37. I decided I should do a little bit on the rain in Juba...
It doesn’t rain often here, but when it does, it truly pours. I’ve gone to school in Norway, just outside Bergen, where precipitation is a way of life for 8 months of the year. So the frequency of rain here is manageable. What impresses is the intensity of it.
The way it works here, is as follows:
1: You start out with say, a sunny afternoon like the one below and you wait. That’s number 37, the first one on the right, by the way.
2: The wind starts to blow, and the clouds start to come in, along with distant thunder if its been a really hot day. This is Mama Nature’s way of telling you to get your behind under cover, or get it soaked. And the wind is intense. We have branches coming off trees, dust getting kicked up, frogs flying everywhere (there are almost as many frogs in Juba as goats, at the moment. I have no idea why)...
3: Then comes the water. It starts out as a drip, but within about 45 seconds it generally turns into a full-on downpour. We’re talking drops the size of eggs here, people. It really is amazing how rapidly it will soak you, if you are caught unawares. But what really amazes me, is how you notice the sound of it. Much more so, I feel, here than at home in DK. It starts out with the first few drops, and then it is as if God turns his radio to static noise, and cranks the volume up slowly but surely. It’s kinda cool...
4: The aftermath.
I don’t have any pictures of this part, but it’s pretty intense. I’ve mentioned the state of the roads before, but it serves as an excellent example. Because there is so much clay inthe soul around here, the drainage is deplorable. Obviously there are no rain gutters or any type of storm drains, sewers, etc... So there is nowhere for the water to go, but downhill. And go it does, taking dust, dirt, trash, road, frogs, and sometimes goats with it.
It leaves some roads useless until the water dries out, and forces you to take alternate routes. It’s unfortunate really, as the rain does tend to make life miserable for many of the locals, and particularly the IDP’s (Internally Displaced People = refugees, from other parts of Sudan) who have nowhere to shelter but under WFP/UNHCR issue tarps rigged up on sticks. And for them, the water just comes in under the tarp, instead of down from above. Gratefully, the water tends to dry out fairly quickly, which of course carries with it a different set of challenges, but at least they can shelter themselves from the sun.
A quick word on the skillset required from electricians in Juba.
Those of you who have either received my e-mails through May and June, or read all the earliest posts on this blog, will know that I have a somewhat strained relationship with the electricians that operate in the my camp where I live. This relationship was not improved today...
First, the power in my office went. Then it came back, I thought, Turns out it only kinda came back. The lights and A/C came back up after about 19 minutes, but the circuit supplying power to the outlets, and thus the internet, printer, computer, etc.. was fried. This was cause for much hemming and hawwing, and scratching of beards among the electrical engineers... The probed, poked, changed stuff to no avail. You see, they couldn’t find the circuit. How did they test the different breakers to see which circuit it was, you ask? Let me tell you. There was an electrician, and a electricians assistant. The electrician is a short, rotund, gentleman of middle eastern descent (Imagine Willow, with darker skin and about 50 pounds more bodymass, and you’re in the ballpark). The assistant, a tall, lanky Sudanese guy. So the Electrician stands on a stool in order to poke at the fusebox, and hopefully determine the error. At the same time, Assistant is on the ground staring at an outlet, waiting for a little light to come on, indicating resuscitation... Now, neither of the gentlemen speaks english as their first, second, or third language. Maybe their eighth... So the dialogue went something like this:
Electrician: Ok, light is on?
Assistant: No
Electrician: Light is on now?
Assistant: No
Electrician: Is on now?
Assistant: No
Electrician: Is on?
Assistant: No
Electrician: On?
Assistant: No
Electrician: On?
Assistant: No
Electrician *grunts inquisitively*?
Assistant: No
Electrician: Swears vigorously at fusebox, in arabic, indicating his failure to locate the bad circuit...
It was unbelievable...
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Wait, am I in the right room?
Ok, I need to relate something that happened to me today. It could, I suppose, have happened anywhere in the world, but the fact that it happened here does not surprise on any level at all.
I live, as you all know, in a tiny cabin that is about 3m x 3½m. My own little space, where I sleep, read, relax, and am alone. The number of my private sliver of heaven? 37.
The way it works here, thankfully, is that I hand in my key in the morning, and when I arrive in the evening, after working, it has been cleaned and made nice. Great deal, and it has worked without fail up until now. Imagine then, if you will, my surprise at entering my room today, and finding it empty. By box that holds all things valuable, my suitcase, my towels, my damn running shoes – all gone, as if by pixies... After a quick double take, to make sure I had let myself into the right room (the locks are not, in fact, particularly advanced and it was absolutely possible I had let myself into the wrong room, due to lack of attention. But no, there it was on the door, ”37” writ large. Off I went to the reception, to investigate. Had there been cunning thievery afoot, or perhaps a particularly well-orchestrated practical joke. Happily neither the former or latter were the case. It seems my neighbor was to be transferred to another room today. And, well, clearly 36 and 37 are easily mixed up... Thats right, the maid had come in and emptied the wrong room...
What is there to do but laugh?
Equilibrium was soon restored, and I now have my safe haven to myself again.
Furthermore, I have been off the radar for the last few days, due to unwanted visitors in my tummy. Now I am back to vertical, and moving around Juba again. Which means, dear readers, that soon there shall be more news of my exciting life in Juba.
See you soon!
I live, as you all know, in a tiny cabin that is about 3m x 3½m. My own little space, where I sleep, read, relax, and am alone. The number of my private sliver of heaven? 37.
The way it works here, thankfully, is that I hand in my key in the morning, and when I arrive in the evening, after working, it has been cleaned and made nice. Great deal, and it has worked without fail up until now. Imagine then, if you will, my surprise at entering my room today, and finding it empty. By box that holds all things valuable, my suitcase, my towels, my damn running shoes – all gone, as if by pixies... After a quick double take, to make sure I had let myself into the right room (the locks are not, in fact, particularly advanced and it was absolutely possible I had let myself into the wrong room, due to lack of attention. But no, there it was on the door, ”37” writ large. Off I went to the reception, to investigate. Had there been cunning thievery afoot, or perhaps a particularly well-orchestrated practical joke. Happily neither the former or latter were the case. It seems my neighbor was to be transferred to another room today. And, well, clearly 36 and 37 are easily mixed up... Thats right, the maid had come in and emptied the wrong room...
What is there to do but laugh?
Equilibrium was soon restored, and I now have my safe haven to myself again.
Furthermore, I have been off the radar for the last few days, due to unwanted visitors in my tummy. Now I am back to vertical, and moving around Juba again. Which means, dear readers, that soon there shall be more news of my exciting life in Juba.
See you soon!
Sunday, August 13, 2006
Back in Juba
Ok, so I got back to Juba on Friday. Weather is hot as the deepest furnaces of hell - and muggy (much unlike, I expect, the afore mentioned furnaces). Apparently theres was heavy, heavy, rain at the beginning of the week. Something witnessed by the state of the "roads" in Juba. The graded the roads while I was away - yet they look almost exactly the same as before I left. If they hadn't graded those roads, I expect they would have been a series of gullies and small riverbeds at this point.
Apparently nothing particularly exciting has happened in my absence. Well, not here in Juba, anyway. But, one my friends here is lebanese. On one of the first days of the Israeli bombings in Beirut, his grandfathers house was hit by two 1000lb bombs - by mistake. His grandmother, cousin, and two nieces were killed in the incident, along with two nigerian UN observers (two that I haven't heard about in the news, but it may have passed me by). Now, I don't have all the details on the current skirmish/conflict/act of hostility/name your bomb-dropping activity, but it does underscore to me how horrible the outcome of conflict is. Forget the politics of the moment, as I am certain there are many families in Israel who have lost loved ones.
I am not, those who know me well will agree, a very political person, and I certainly don't want my blog to be a forum for what I think will ultimately be a pointless discussion of the current conflict. I simply want to raise the question and thought : why is it necessary in this day and age, to resort to the actions of hostility, over ideologies and zealotry based on the actions of people long gone? Surely it must be possible to educate these people (I speak of both sides in this particular conflict) to such a degree that they are able to address this in a more constructive fashion?
Enough now of this talk. I felt the need to get it off my chest, and as this is my blog, I get to do that.
Now, for something a little lighter: Rollershoes, or Heelys, as they are also called. A radical change of subject, I know. Do you remember these things? Immortalized to little or no acclaim in several Usher music videos, these contraptions made the rounds a few years back. Basically a sneaker with wheels recessed into the heels. The wheel can then be made to pop out, or activated by moving your weight around, allowing you to, I guess, cruise down sidewalks or in bars on the heels of your shoes, saving you the onerous task of walking. If you don't remember them, check them out
here . I can only imagine the collective groan and gnashing of teeth that must have gone on among the paramedics of the world when these puppies hit the streets...
Why do I mention these now, you ask? Well, as you may or may not be aware, the consumer market in Africa, is largely driven by counterfeit products. Be it clothes, electronics, media, vehicles - you name it, they have a fake for it. And as I was waiting for my flight from Nairobi on Friday morning, I noticed a kid in what at first glance seemed to be Heelys. So what? Well, the whole thing about the heelys, is that you can choose to use the wheels or you can walk - like normal people. The things this kid was wearing, were yet another proof that the counterfeiters that supply these markets rarely see the products they are copying. It's as if they had a phonecall(on a crappy connection) from someone who had a brother, who at one point saw an add for Heelys on the side of a bus. The shoes worn by this kid were bright red, sparkly, vinyl, with a really thick white sole, and basically 2 plastic casters nailed for the bottom of them. No hinges, no springs, no nothing. They were like rollerskates with none of the redeeming factors. The result was that the poor kid couldn't stop himself from slowly rolling around in random directions. Often both legs going off on grossly divergent headings. Even if he tried to stand still, he would eventually just head off for the horizon. Poor guy. Perhaps you had to be there, but at 7 am, with no coffee in me, and not much sleep for the previous 36 hours, I found the image funny.
Anyway, I am on the ground in Juba, and will return soon, with more tales of the life I lead. Until then, this is JubaJoe, live from Juba.
Apparently nothing particularly exciting has happened in my absence. Well, not here in Juba, anyway. But, one my friends here is lebanese. On one of the first days of the Israeli bombings in Beirut, his grandfathers house was hit by two 1000lb bombs - by mistake. His grandmother, cousin, and two nieces were killed in the incident, along with two nigerian UN observers (two that I haven't heard about in the news, but it may have passed me by). Now, I don't have all the details on the current skirmish/conflict/act of hostility/name your bomb-dropping activity, but it does underscore to me how horrible the outcome of conflict is. Forget the politics of the moment, as I am certain there are many families in Israel who have lost loved ones.
I am not, those who know me well will agree, a very political person, and I certainly don't want my blog to be a forum for what I think will ultimately be a pointless discussion of the current conflict. I simply want to raise the question and thought : why is it necessary in this day and age, to resort to the actions of hostility, over ideologies and zealotry based on the actions of people long gone? Surely it must be possible to educate these people (I speak of both sides in this particular conflict) to such a degree that they are able to address this in a more constructive fashion?
Enough now of this talk. I felt the need to get it off my chest, and as this is my blog, I get to do that.
Now, for something a little lighter: Rollershoes, or Heelys, as they are also called. A radical change of subject, I know. Do you remember these things? Immortalized to little or no acclaim in several Usher music videos, these contraptions made the rounds a few years back. Basically a sneaker with wheels recessed into the heels. The wheel can then be made to pop out, or activated by moving your weight around, allowing you to, I guess, cruise down sidewalks or in bars on the heels of your shoes, saving you the onerous task of walking. If you don't remember them, check them out
here . I can only imagine the collective groan and gnashing of teeth that must have gone on among the paramedics of the world when these puppies hit the streets...
Why do I mention these now, you ask? Well, as you may or may not be aware, the consumer market in Africa, is largely driven by counterfeit products. Be it clothes, electronics, media, vehicles - you name it, they have a fake for it. And as I was waiting for my flight from Nairobi on Friday morning, I noticed a kid in what at first glance seemed to be Heelys. So what? Well, the whole thing about the heelys, is that you can choose to use the wheels or you can walk - like normal people. The things this kid was wearing, were yet another proof that the counterfeiters that supply these markets rarely see the products they are copying. It's as if they had a phonecall(on a crappy connection) from someone who had a brother, who at one point saw an add for Heelys on the side of a bus. The shoes worn by this kid were bright red, sparkly, vinyl, with a really thick white sole, and basically 2 plastic casters nailed for the bottom of them. No hinges, no springs, no nothing. They were like rollerskates with none of the redeeming factors. The result was that the poor kid couldn't stop himself from slowly rolling around in random directions. Often both legs going off on grossly divergent headings. Even if he tried to stand still, he would eventually just head off for the horizon. Poor guy. Perhaps you had to be there, but at 7 am, with no coffee in me, and not much sleep for the previous 36 hours, I found the image funny.
Anyway, I am on the ground in Juba, and will return soon, with more tales of the life I lead. Until then, this is JubaJoe, live from Juba.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Touchdown Nairobi - better yesterday, than today
Hey All,
A quick update from your weary Africa traveller (who is really happy he flew out of Heathrow yesterday, not today - check out http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/4778575.stm )
Apparently the security at Heathrow today is so draconian, that no carry-on luggage is allowed. You can't even bring your book, let alone your laptop or any of the other expensive hardware usually carried on board for fear of losing it to the luggage gremlins... I can only imagine what it would be like to receive my carry-on at the luggage area in Nairobi:
Laptop - stolen
Digital camera - broken and stolen
Backup external harddrive - run over by overzealous luggage tractor driver
Cellphone - stolen by someone who has no chance in hell of making it work
Ipod - currently worn as bling by local "pharmaceutical entrepreneur" who can't listen to it because he has no charger for it...
I left Copenhagen yesterday morning, at a timeso early my watch hadn't started ticking when I got up - flew to Heathrow which yesterday was operating normally, which is to say "your luggage might make it, but don't hold your breath". I had the most pleasant of conversations at my check in in Copenhagen, which led to my getting an upgrade for the hop to Nairobi. Its amazing how mustering a smile at 0530 will get you goodwill from airport personnel. So my flight was great, and made it to my apartment in Nairobi with no hassle at all.
I have also managed to get a ticket into Juba, so I leave for there tomorrow morning, Friday, at 10 AM. Butterflies abound in my stomach and I admittedly miss home. At the same time I look forward to reaching Juba and getting back into the swing of things.
I'll be in Juba, and sometimes Nairobi, for the next 4 months, flying back out around Christmas time. Until then, I will attempt to make regular updates to this page, including pictures and stories from the weird and whacky everyday life in one of the worlds least civilized places.
Until next time, this is JubaJoe, signing off.
A quick update from your weary Africa traveller (who is really happy he flew out of Heathrow yesterday, not today - check out http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/4778575.stm )
Apparently the security at Heathrow today is so draconian, that no carry-on luggage is allowed. You can't even bring your book, let alone your laptop or any of the other expensive hardware usually carried on board for fear of losing it to the luggage gremlins... I can only imagine what it would be like to receive my carry-on at the luggage area in Nairobi:
Laptop - stolen
Digital camera - broken and stolen
Backup external harddrive - run over by overzealous luggage tractor driver
Cellphone - stolen by someone who has no chance in hell of making it work
Ipod - currently worn as bling by local "pharmaceutical entrepreneur" who can't listen to it because he has no charger for it...
I left Copenhagen yesterday morning, at a timeso early my watch hadn't started ticking when I got up - flew to Heathrow which yesterday was operating normally, which is to say "your luggage might make it, but don't hold your breath". I had the most pleasant of conversations at my check in in Copenhagen, which led to my getting an upgrade for the hop to Nairobi. Its amazing how mustering a smile at 0530 will get you goodwill from airport personnel. So my flight was great, and made it to my apartment in Nairobi with no hassle at all.
I have also managed to get a ticket into Juba, so I leave for there tomorrow morning, Friday, at 10 AM. Butterflies abound in my stomach and I admittedly miss home. At the same time I look forward to reaching Juba and getting back into the swing of things.
I'll be in Juba, and sometimes Nairobi, for the next 4 months, flying back out around Christmas time. Until then, I will attempt to make regular updates to this page, including pictures and stories from the weird and whacky everyday life in one of the worlds least civilized places.
Until next time, this is JubaJoe, signing off.
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