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...