Going to Bor and Malek - last posting for a week

August 11 – This will be my last posting until at least a week from now. Aduei and I will finally be going to Bor on a UN helicopter. I cannot take my computer for various reasons – no electricity, no internet and also, there is little food in Bor and Malek and we have to fil our bags with food from Juba. Below are some notes taken over the past week – which all turned out well, but here they are as things were happening:

This morning:

I am in the middle of third world confusion – twelve hours after meeting the president, the police have threatened me with arrest if I don’t pay them some money and all hell has broken out here at the compound.

Since Makuei has been gone in Kenya and out of touch, my passport has made the rounds. As instructed it was given to the police for the proper entry stamp. If you may remember, we were picked up at the border by a vehicle sent by Makuei and they let us through the border without asking for any papers. No one stamped my SPLM card – I have no entry stamp. Makuei gave clear orders that the police take care of this. The following day, I gave my papers to the police and then the mystery begins. The police gave some sort of note to Makuei’s concubine, who has been reeking havoc around here since he left, and she claims to have given them to someone to give to me. I never received them, but Adeui’s sister was given the passport back saying that nothing needed to be done. This morning the police general came and asked for my papers and what was done with them. When I told him that I was told that everything was is in order, he said that I am illegally in the country and that I have to go to the office of immigration and pay a fine and “a lot of money.” If not, I will be arrested in Bor when I get off the plane (which is already booked, a UN charter plane. Now, I look at the ticket that we just got, or travel papers actually and I also notice that they list me as a Sudanese citizen. I couldn’t make this up if I wanted to. It is very dreamlike. Arguments were flying this morning between the concubine and others and I am getting bits and pieces in translation. We are told that we should not argue with the generals because they can just arrest you at will. So we are supposed to go to the maybe corrupt police general’s office, but we have an appointment, ironically, with the President of South Sudan. We met him briefly yesterday and he told us to return today when he had more time. I awoke early, but the ride is not here. I am tired and have not washed in a few days. There is no food here at the house. If Makuei was here, he would have taken care of it all, but as fate had it, I am left in the hands of a possibly corrupt official and a nasty concubine….

Later that day: After waiting for hours and hours, we were led into President Salva Kiir’s office to meet with him for a maximum of ten minutes. It was the persistence of the Queen of Juba (a name that I have given her since she knows everyone in Juba – she is a friend and some sort of relative of Aduei’s sister and is a fairly high ranking SPLA soldier).

I was amazed at what a warm man he is and for the next hour we discussed the politics including how he thinks the people will vote in the referendum, democracy, education, the school, the Sudanese Diaspora, Aduei’s work in the US with the Sudanese living there and more. We talked for over an hour and he is very supportive of the school. We talked language of instruction, curriculum, and he conveyed his strong feelings about education.

Then went to the police general’s office and with a little help from my friends and the mention that it was Makuei’s vehicle which brought me across the border, I left the office with the proper stamp and not having to pay a red shilling. If I had gone alone, it would have cost me a small fortune.

Driving

The Queen of Juba’s driver Katagor (he is very small and the nick name means: small. It is quite interesting that a person with one arm is nick-named “One Arm.” A person with one leg: “Limpy” and they don’t seem to mind. Or so it seems.) was ill and then away for a day and I was asked to be the driver. Not many people have driver’s licenses here and so I accepted the challenge. The cars drive on the right like in the US, but the driver’s seat and steering wheel are also on the right. This means that the clutch in on my left…..and so, I ventured out into the Juban day. The rhythm of driving here is something like: shift, avoid pothole, go slowly through crater, speed up, downshift, honk. I was grateful that there was daylight and it was dry outside. I got used to the dust obstructing my view….but darkness set in and the challenge grew…..before long, torrential rains were pouring down, refiguring the road and the puddles making it impossible to gauge the depths of the holes they were filling………..the SUV I was driving has virtually no shocks to speak of and the driving experience felt more like a video game – dodging through obstacles and not getting destroyed……..

Church – I have gone to church for the first four weeks here since I wanted to respect Adeui’s mother, who is very religious and is a deacon. This week, with her gone, I thought I could sleep in, but that was one of the days that I was the driver. I drove everyone to church, but decided to sleep in the car - not only am I Jewish, but three hour of prayers, preaching, and announcements in Dinka can get quite boring. May I be forgiven for my indiscretions.

Juba

Learning about Juba has given me a new perspective. Here is an except from the CRS: “Juba itself, a former garrison town held tightly by the government of Sudan in the midst of a southern stronghold. Few buildings, except squatters' huts of mud and straw, have gone up since southerners lost the city in the early 1980s. Buildings that are still standing are in critical shape. Some would say the people of Juba are too; cut off from most of the world, they eked out livelihoods on dangerous land, following the dictates of northern soldiers who occupied the town.
Until last year, the landmines ringing Juba presented an inviolable obstacle to entry by road. People and supplies arrived on planes, and prices reflected the airfare. Now, commercial trucks have started coming in, tempted by business interests to take the risk that roads are de-mined enough for passage. Businesses and employees may follow the construction material, food and other commodities that those trucks carry.”

It is amazing that over these past 22 years, nothing has been done. The SPLA occupied this city for under a week in 1992 – I think and the battle was quite fierce. There are bullet holes and burnt out vehicles throughout the city and it is clear that it has just come out of years of neglect. The only bizarre thing is that it is one of the most expensive cities in the world. Hotel rooms which are merely tents are $150/night and food is astronomical.

There were no southerners living here during the northern occupation and they are now trickling back to their homes – or attempting to. This is the capital of New Sudan – South Sudan and all the government ministries are here. For months, the ministers were living in those “hotels” at the government’s expense and now they have occupied the best housing. I do not have time to describe in detail what is happening, but I will just say that I could recognize a government minister even if he was naked. I could simply tell by his weight. Food is a struggle for most people here, but there is no shortage at the special restaurants for the fat cats.

It’s funny, Lori gave me a great novel about the American Civil war called “Killer Angels” and there too, the soldiers complain about the fat cats. I wonder whether every new society needs to have a period of a ruling class. It takes watching another society develop in order for me to begin to reexamine our own history. (just as it took me learning French to understand parts of speech and grammar in English). Growing up, the son of immigrants, I always felt there was a WASP elite that was closed off to me. Fortunately, my parents taught me that it was through education that I would be able to crack that barrier. There is still an old boys’ network, but it has become permeable (though one should look at a great article in the New Yorker by Malcolm Gladwell about Harvard’s admission practices over the years, particularly in respect to the Jews). But then again, I am white and the barriers are minimal compared to the those faced by the students of color that have been my students over the years. We still have a long way to go and are somewhat aware through women’s rights, civil rights, and gays rights movements.

I hear from many young men that if you are not from the right tribe, clan, or family, it is impossible to get a job. There is resentment and anger growing, but this country is only a few years old and hopefully they will learn from our history. At this stage, women, who compose sixty percent of the population have little representation – though they were promised 25% of the seats in Parliament. What are our numbers in America? The rights of the disabled are not yet on their radar and homosexuality cannot be spoken about. It simply does not exist.

Child Soldiers

So may of today’s men in their early twenties have spent their lives as child soldiers and have little or no education. I met a guy who is an artist and a musician and I uploaded a few of his songs from a CD he hopes to make called Child Soldiers. He was on the list to be resettled in the US from the Karkuma Refugee Camp where Aduei was, but his name was sold. He waited, waited, checked every day for years…..and he never got out of Sudan.

The Diaspora

There is much talk of the Diaspora – the Sudanese who have left and gotten educated abroad and their responsibility to return to the South Sudan. I am working with a group of Lost Boys, as well as hoping to bring some of the boys/girls back to teach at the school.

Every day there is another mother and child reunited after years. I witnessed a mother meet her son after not knowing for years whether he was alive or not.

Random notes:

As a driver, I had to drop some one off at Riek Machar’s house in Juba. If you read Emma’s War, you’ll know who he is.

There was some trouble getting food for a few days and I began to understand how easy it is to sit around and do nothing when you are hungry. They seem so used to not eating for days at a time.

Am running out of time to write and will just jot down a few more ideas.

Interesting conversations about buying a woman for cows or getting sex for buying food and beer……they ask: is it so different in America? Don’t you wine and dine your women and expect sex in return……..worth pondering.

Not a rare site to see a barefoot orphan walking the streets at night. ….so many orphans from war and disease……everyone is sick all the time…malaria is so common……and the handshaking continues ……

I must learn to speak Dinka

No one talks about Uncle’s health. Not a very emotional people.

We don’t realize how important refrigeration is – even when there is food to buy, you cannot store very much.

I read the news today oh boy………Dinka still fighting Dinka………More on this at another time….this came up in the discussion with the President today.

Must they embrace speed? – when the internet and roads and modern conveniences come, will they still enjoy quality of life……they should learn from the Italians………..

There are still too many militias with weapons provided by the North……….

Is there a vision? Or will they take what they can get and let the culture develop around it? Is the western way of life too strong a tide to dam.? Can it be regulated and does anyone know how..? everyone wants internet and ipods and lots of mindless tv…….europe had it right…..with regulations about quality…..

Religion and law…….how will they be resolved?

phones have been down for days........no cell service


Must go……….will write in a week or so…….no time to proof – read………I am healthy, losing a bit of weight, on antibiotics, but feeling strong….and young………

Orphans, Sultan, and the White Male

Here are two orphans who were brought by a relative to Uncle's place yesterday.
A photo of the Sultan of Malek wearing my baseball cap.
The White Male - a small restaurant/hotel - no one knows why they call it that, but I have discovered that the local "restaurant" has a hotel (the wooden structures in the back) that rents by the hour and the girls who eat at your table may be more than you bargained for. Fortunately, I have my local friends to guide me.

Meeting with the President of South Sudan this Afternoon

Short note

I will be writing later about Juba. I will be omitting some of the political notes and comments about the government on the blog. If you have been reading the blog, and are interested, i will send out a separate email that includes the ommitted parts. Send me an email at charlyadler@gmai.com if you are interested. Thanks.

Traditional Dinka scarrings on forehead

The President of South Sudan

The last of three entires i just posted.....Uncle

August 4, 2006

Makuei

I’m not sure where to begin since so much has happened since I last wrote. It has been difficult to write since as soon as I take out the computer, someone wants to watch me write and read what I am writing. When I try to tell them that I am writing a personal letter, it only brings more people to me to read. There is no concept of privacy here. People are crowded on top of one another and no one ever has their own bedroom. I can’t count how many I have shared a room with – both men and children – often three on a mattress. If there is a mattress and a mosquito net, room will be found for another. There is no shame or embarrassment when someone walks in on someone washing up or squatting over the toilet. There is also a great culture of sharing. Yesterday, someone was going towards the Customs office and I asked him if he could change some money for me. When he returned, I gave him a 1000 Sudanese Shilling note. He hesitated, but took it. Then I felt, I should give him another one. He immediately gave it to the boy next to him. I have no signs of taking what is not yours (though this exists on an official level. I think that state money is viewed differently than private property. For a week, I have seen a VIP badge from the signing of the CPA just sitting around. It would be a great souvenir. I asked someone who it belonged to and he said: “we just leave it here. The person who it belongs to will come and claim it.”

Nothing is as it appears and everything I have written up to now should be taken with a grain salt. I Have made quick observations, based on what is told to me – often in broken English, on what I observe – and all of this through the lens of my Western bias. I felt as if I was painting a picture, but the longer I am here I see how big and textured the canvas is and what I have painted is just a speck on the canvas, and poor quality paint – or the wrong paint altogether. I have seen but a slice of the society here and my generalizations may be very far off-base. But that is all that I have right now and as I become more adept at mixing my colors and layering the paint, I hope the picture will become clearer – at least slightly.

Contradictions: there are rules. There are statements made. We went out to a mixed part of town the other night. Most of the shops are owned by Arabs. I asked Aduei’s sitster, Agot how she felt about being in an Arab restaurant. She said that there are few choices in Juba and of course she hates the Arabs – they killed her husband. I asked what would happen to the Arabs if South Sudan secedes. She said they would leave. I then asked: On their own or will they be forced to?” She said that they would be forced to. When I pointed out that the new Sudanese constitution would not allow that the conversations ended. The ideas expressed in the constitution are the basis of a free society with the same guarantees of freedom and choice offered to Americans in our constitution – but with the Bill of Rights and concepts of two hundred years of amendments included from the start. Contradictions: Many of the men here have been fighting the Arabs for 22 years. A surprising amount are married to Arab women, including Makuei – who we will get to shortly since he is the main character of the events that transpired over these past days. I was at the home of the undersecretary of communications after dinner at the Arab restaurant. His friend Omar, who works for the International Red Cross. Omar is a Moslem. Omar is also a Nubian. From a tribe up by the Egyptian border. Where does he fit into this puzzle of tribe, religion, race?

If you ever watched Rocky and Bullwinkle – aside from the brilliant cold war satire, there was a part of the show with Mr. Peabody – a dog and his pet boy, Sherman. They had a time machine and travel to different ages in history. I sometimes think that this cartoon dog is responsible for my love of history. After watching the show, I would go to my white and green World Book encyclopedia (which took my parents years to pay off) and look up the time period or country that was just visited by my animated friends. I have thought of Mr. Peabody and Sherman over these past weeks in South Sudan. I feel as if I have time traveled, though not to specific time and place, but to some amalgam of times and places. At times, I try to think what year in America this could be paralleled with. The state-building and beginnings of democracy bring me back to the 18th century, yet the conditions here are more Civil War era-ish. But it is the anachronism that confuse things. No running water, no electricity, yet there are cars and cell phones. No roads or addresses, but there are airports. 80% of the people are illiterate, yet there are internet “cafes” – rarely working, but with a satellite dish outside and a generator humming.

I think of the stories my mother told me about Palestine/later Israel in the 1940’s and her thrill when she would hear from her family still there (she came to America in 1950) about water, roads, electricity, hospitals. And I know that South Sudan can bring itself into the present. It is how it blends the culture and traditions that will be struggle. Will they have a Mustafah Kamal Ataturk as Turkey did? Who will be their model? Singapore? Japan? – each one of these has elements that could be relevant, though the South Sudanese should study them all and learn from them. Some of the lessons from Japan could be applicable, though the population is heterogeneous; Singapore had a mixed Chinese/Malaysian/Indian population, though a benevolent dictator ruled it. You may want to check these facts – my memory is a bit rusty. Anyway, the point is that there the advantage that South Sudan has is that it can learn from the successes of other countries and really study the failures of others – especially on the African continents.

But his is not what I intended to write about and this is becoming more of journal for me than something for public consumption. I doubt anyone is reading this anymore, so I shall write to audience of one.

Makuei – better known as Uncle

We have been staying at his house fo the past week. The two-day stopover has turned into a week and this week will be extended further. The longer I stay here, the ore I learn about Makuei. I watch as family members (this “family” is enormous) come and stay here – finding a mattress or putting up a tent or simply sleeping on the grounds. They come here as a safe haven (the home of the chief of police of South Sudan is quite sate), but also to talk to Makuei. Makuei is 61 years old,, about 6’4 and maybe, if lucky, 160 pounds. He has two gold teeth where incisors where on top and speaks in a quiet, but abrupt voice. hen talks, all listen. After coming out of the bush as a Major General Makuei Majuc became a high political figure. He was in the bush fighting since the beginning with John Garang in 1983j for the next 22 years. He was already a veteran fighter in the wars that have ravaged Sudan since independence in 1956.

According to so many of the young people I have spoken to, Makuei is the only one who has taken care of the clan over all these years. He has arranged for many of the youngsters to get away from the fighting and go to schools in the regugee camps in Kenya or wherever he could find. He did this not only for the clan but for many of Dinka kids from Bor.

One by one, they return, often short of money to continue their studies – often it is a matter of a few hundred dollars – and they wait for an audience with Makuei. It is lLike a scene from the Father. At times there are groups of young men sitting around him as he gives them advice and tells them what they should be doing with their lives. For some, he can find money to pay for another semester of schooling. He recommends whether they should be getting married or studying or taking lessons to become a driver – a very employable skill an valued with these roads.

These meetings are interrupted by a constant flow of military and government men who must meet with him. Especially now, since he was planning to go Kenya for medical treatment. He was passing out orders and delegating authority. He was always dressed in his green uniform/outfit/suit – not quite sure what to call it, but as he got sicker, he would meet in his pajamas. He soon was getting an IV drip and napping more and more and people would wait for him to awake. But through all this, his mind was sharp. Every day he would see me and say that we must meet, but not yet. He was doing his homework- he was talking to the Sultan of Malek and talking to some of the kids about the school that will be built. He told the Sultan that he must get to Malek before I do in order to prepare the town for the arrival. He talked about land for the school and whom I should meet with.

And through all this, the despise concubine is making everyone’s life miserable. It is interesting that this Arab fighter has an Arab wife (his first wife) who has been living with their children in Australia. Nothing is black and white.

Aduei and I had been called to see him a few times, but by the time we reached his room, he was too tired or asleep. We were told that we must stay nearby and ready for him when he calls us.

And the time came – during a torrential downpour, we went to a porch where he was laying down. He was weak and I struggled to hear him.
He apologized for not being to be more helpful until now, but that he had been ill. He was on medication and had seen some doctor. It was not clear whether it was malaria or typhoid. His chest hurt and his breathing was weak. But he continued to speak and explained the complexities of a white American traveling in South Sudan. He talked about how I could not take the boat up the Nile to Bor, but must travel by plane. The boat, he explained could be quite treacherous – the sun, the rain, the capsizing, the mechanical failures, running out of fuel – the trip could take days. Furthermore, all kinds of people are on the boat. And then he informed that it is not drunks and a few anti-Americans that I needed protection from. He explained that in Southern Sudan there are many Somalis, some of which are part of Al-Qaida and that makes me a target for terrorism. He explained that there are terrorists here and an unprotected American is not safe.

He had my attention.

He then asked me explain the school. I told him that I will let the villagers to decide whether is should be elementary or secondary. I told him that it would be free to all, unaffiliated with any religious group, and equally accessible to boys and girls. The teachers would be recruited locally, as well as from around the world. Language of instruction will be English, though there must be a way to preserve the Dinka language (all schools are taught in English in the South and Arabic in the north). I talked about math, science, engineering and English. And then went on about the importance of learning history and preparing young persons for life in a democratic society – for teaching them how they can control their future. I discussed how kids should not learn by rote and should be able to think, analyze and question.

He was satisfied.

He then checked my papers and their was a problem with the stamp, but he would write me letter this evening and I would go to the police tomorrow to it all arranged. He would talk to me later about certain other arrangements.

But this is not how things turned out. (it is 3:30 pm the next day – I must get coffee)

Got my coffee – thought I putting in Nescafe, but I just tasted it and got a mouthful of coffee grinds…….mmmm…It will settle.

I continue – Our talk was interrupted by a visit from a police general, but Makuei told him what needed to be done and that he would writing the letter. I would meet the general tomorrow and all would be arranged. Then Makuei suddenly said he was dizzy and went into his room and into bed.

Now that I had spoken to Uncle, we could leave the compound. Agot’s friend, Ade (who I call the Queen of Juba – she is a widow who is also one of the highest ranking female soldiers in South Sudan – she has a car and driver – a boy who looks like he is 14, but is actually 16 they say.) The boy was sick and tonight’s driver was a friend who has visited his father who lives in Nebraska. There are also many of the Lost Boys living in Salt Lake City. Along with another guy, we went to a place that also featured an Internet café. The Internet was down, but we ate, picked up some medicine from an Arab pharmacy for Adeui – cheap by American standards, but very expensive by Sudanese standards. And we headed back to the compound.

The guards opened the gate and we see Deng running to us, screaming his grunts and wildly gesturing with hands. When others arrived, we found out that Uncle had been taken to the hospital. He was having shivers (convulsions) and unconscious). Back in the Mitsubishi and we went to find him. There were a few possibilities of where he could be but with so few phones, we could not get in touch with anyone and would have to search each place one by one. Luckily we had a more experienced driver, as we began our search through the rutted, crater-filled roads. A good driver knows where the holes on and either goes around them if he can or slows down. The torrential rains of earlier in the day had changed the dirt roads’ topography as we headed blindly into the night. We first went to the Military Hospital, but he was not there. The military hospital was in the largest army base in the South, but it seemed that it was controlled by the Arabs from Khartoum. It would not be in the North’s interest to want to save Uncle – that’s what I gathered from conversations – though they put it in much stronger words. Then to the some other “hospital” and he not there. We tried various places where they could have brought him. We entered some facility where there were tens of people lined up sleeping outside. It was pitch black though was one small building with a dim bulb burning. He was not there. All this time, we rode in total silence and dejected, we returned to the compound. As we did one of the high ranking men had a phone and had reached someone and we on our way to the hospital where we would find Uncle. We arrived and there was a group of about fifty people there. Most people did not know what was happening because of the lack of communication capabilities.

We were led to a small building with one small room lit by two kerosene lamps hanging from the IV pole. On the pole was the remaining few drops in an IV bag. Uncle was stripped down looking like a frail old man, gasping and convulsing. There were no hospital beds available anywhere and no where to get supplies. People were praying. Aduei was crying, as were many people. He is a loved man in this community. He is known as a generous man. Women were putting wet towels on him and there were no doctors. There were nurses, but no supplies. The sanitary conditions were abhorable (if that is word) and everyone was just standing around in shock. Uncle slipped in and out of consciousness. A doctor arrived – not a Dinka so he spoke English to the people) and I was by the bedside listening and explaining. I then went outside. After a few hours, a black man wearing a polo shirt arrived. There was something very Western about him. It was the first time I saw anyone put on surgical gloves. He took his blood pressure and pulse. I heard him speak and realized he was an American medic who operates a one room clinic in Juba. He said that there were facilities to take Uncle. I was standing outside by the open window and said: “Doc, what needs to be done? Where can he get what he needs?”
Nairobi. There are no doctors hear who specialize in this or can help him. There are no facilities that can serve his needs.

I said: How can we get him there and what do we do in the meantime?

We conferred for a while and came up with a plan. We would move Uncle to his clinic where at least it is clean, cool, and there are IV’s and an oxygen tank. We would then MediVac him to Nairobi. When I told him that Uncle was scheduled to go on a commercial airline to Nairobi, he said that he would not make it. He has to go in an ambulance airplane.

I spoke with Uncle’s brother who said that money will be found. All the people were willing to help once I began to get the plan rolling. We would transport Uncle in the biggest SUV. We would put the seats down and put a mattress down. I guided the men as they carried Uncle to the SUV and we hooked up the IV to the clothing hook in the car. It was decided that I should travel in the back with Uncle, so that I could understand what was going on and ask the right questions. It was simply a matter of asking the right questions. We drove carefully, as four of us sat around this frail semi conscious man and we made it to the clinic. The clinic is located in a compound of newly built bungalows – the caretaker, an man from Gor, India told me that it is a private site – owned by the US government. I asked how much the bungalows cost and he said $200. “Per month?” He answered: Per day – each unit is self contained. He didn’t want to talk anymore.

The site was not complete and we sludged through mud. The medic, Dennis Newsome, had brought the bed over in his pick up truck and we brought Uncle in. I helped him get a medical history and Dennis believes that Uncle had suffered a heart attack. He hooked up the IV and did some tests and then attached the oxygen tank through a tube in his nose. The Medi-Vacs were called and arrangements were made. I was driven back to the compound at this point. There were some issues with payment, but the Interior Ministry worked that out and this morning Uncle was airlifted to Nairobi. We are waiting to hear how he is doing. He was doing better before he left and the plane has a doctor and two nurses. His brother went with him.

It is in crisis that I operate best. With a goal at hand my mind gets clear and when I was organizing the move, I could visualize it. A side note: There was a woman with a white dress who was very helpful and worked with me during the move from the dank room to the clinic. I found out this morning that she was Dr. John Garang’s widow

Short notes: it is incredible that some people know seven tribal languages plus either English or Arabic. If they speak only English and all those languages, they cannot speak to a person who knows another five tribal languages and Arabic. This brought back my thoughts about a universal language – like Esperanto – which I speak for those of you who don’t know me that well – but it seems that English is becoming the neutral language and the language of commerce.

It was told to me that when Uncle was being prepared to be board the plane, he first insisted that he should be wearing his suit (that did not happen). But amazingly, in his delirium he said: “I’m not leaving until I meet with Charly and Aduei.” “I’m not leaving until Charly gets the papers he needs to go to Bor.”

While I was writing this I had a surprise visit from Abraham, one of the Lost Boys who I met in Kampala. He lives in Salt Lake City, and is staying next door for the next few days, not far from the compound and he has just returned from Bor where his organization is building a school. He would like us to work together and share resources, especially mine as an educator He knows how to get the materials here and has many connections. We will meet in the States. He has just returned to his family and they are slaughtering a cow tomorrow and I am invited. I also leaned that there are sixty thousand Sudanese in Utah.

The Delirium, Fever, and Odd Bits

August 1, 2006

What a few days it’s been. I left Africa for forty-eight hours and traveled into my mind and into music. I got hit with fever and have been a bit delirious – the women prayed for me, put wet towels on my body, and cracked my knuckles and toes – that together with some Advil seemed to bring my fever down. I’m on the end of day two of being inside in bed where I did lots of delirious thinking. I was told that I was talking to myself and I kind of remember making lists of regrets and things I am mot proud of in my life…….i don’t remember what I came up with.

The generator at Uncle’s house was turned on – It turns out that he is the Interior Minister for South Sudan, the Chief of Police for all of Sudan and a Major General in the army. He has been very ill and we have not been able to see him. We cannot leave Juba without his making the connections that we need nor get his blessings – which are quite important. Anyway, the generator was turned on and was able to charge the computer. The noise of the diesel generator is quite loud, but the bulbs begin to flicker and there is dull light and everyone charges their phones

I opened ITunes and turned on the visuals – I was mesmerized by the images and wondered who could have programmed this. It was a modern version of the Joshua light show that used to appear in the background of rock n’ roll shows at the Fillmore East in the East Village in the late sixties. It lacks the pot smoke-filled stoned-out atmosphere of the old Jewish Theater turned rock Mecca by Bill Graham (not Billy Graham the preacher), but Bill Graham, the rock producer who also opened the Fillmore West in San Francisco. I once served him chocolate egg creams back stage at a Rolling Stones concert long story.

I put on headphones and took a delirious tour through my musical collection consisting of 6300 songs on my computer and I Pod. I put it on random and it began with Roxy Music’s “Avalon” with Brian Ferry’s sultry voice accompanied by the crystal clear female backup vocalists, There are competent musicians in the band (though the drummer could have been replace by a drum machine) and the arrangements are a bit overdone, but the subtle use of the horns did it for me. I then listened to my favorite Dvorjak piece Romance in F Minor – with the crying violin dancing through the melody, reminding me of Rimsky Korsakov’s Scheherazade where the violin is the voice of Scheherazade in the Tale of A Thousand and One Nights. But my stream of consciousness took me to wanting to hear incredible violin that would make my body shiver not only from the fever. My father was a man of few words. I remember the times he beat me, but also the words of wisdom that he imparted on me. Not all were wise and many have gotten me in trouble but he was passionate about a few things in life. His voice would become human and filled with admiration when he spoke about certain things, actually only a few things. I remember becoming a democrat in 1960 – I was 4 and on Election Day the front page of the Daily News consisted of two large photos: one of Nixon and one of JFK. I asked my father who should be president. His voice changed to that soft voice and he said “Kennedy, he’s a Democrat and they’re good for the working people.” At his point, he had been in America for nine years and we were quite poor. Anyway, the other things that made him sound like a feeling human being were talking about Vic Rashie of the Yankee team before I was born (yes, and I became a Yankee fan), Pele, Placido Domingo, but most of all the way he spoke of Jascha Heifitz– the great violinist. He would say: You must listen to Yascha Heifitz, when he plays, fire comes out of the violin.” I think is also helped that Yashca Heifitz was a Jew like us – and he had made it. And so when I got older, I listened to Heifitz and last night I fed of his flames and they pour through me like sparks through my veins. I then moved to some rock n’ roll – letting the shuffle control the rest of the evening and Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground rocked on with an amazing guitar sole and I feel sorry for the hip hop generation who do not get to enjoy improvisations and jamming among musicians. I guess there is improv in the words and I just don’t get it enough. I listed to Roger Daltry (from the Who) backed up by an orchestra singing 5:15 from the Who’s Quadrophenia, only this time there were two horns caught up in improvisational dialogue which made me listen to this track over and over again. These two horn players were so locked in to each other. A bit raw, but so alive. As the shuffle continued, I listened to some jazz that was too clean for me until Miles and Coltrane came on. The piano of Dave Grusin is so proficient, yet too clean for me, as is George Winston. I had to manually switch to Keith Jarrett’s Köln concert to feel some piano from the heart. He does it for me every time in this CD and in another solo live concert which I have not been able to locate. It think it was in Bremen where Jarrett takes 20 minutes of teasing around a melody and improvising – dancing around it and playing parts of the melody and then retreats into his own world – his breaths audible….until he finally gets to it and there is a feeling of exhilaration.

Have just spent the past hour with Deng teaching him to write on the computer. He is a deaf mute and has never been to school. There are so few schools here, let alone schools for the hearing impaired. He has taught himself to read and write a bit, but does not know sign language or how to read lips. He has created his own sign language which friends and family – and now me – can understand. But the concepts are limited and his opportunities are limited here. Fortunately, he is loved by everyone – his is a gentle soul and I he really watches out for me. Uncle loves him, so I hope he will be taken care of. Uncle is currently looking for a wife for him. He will make a wonderful and caring husband, but the choice of wife will not be his. It will be a business transaction involving a woman and cows.

My head spins here because every decision has so many levels weighed into it. Political, religious, tribal, familial. The one thing that has been simple has been the appearance of a puppy at the compound. A puppy is a puppy. Okay, his name is the Arabic word for “south” – as in South Sudan…….can’t escape it all……

THe first of three long posts - still in Juba

July 29th mixed in with some rushed later writing.


The town prepares for the one year celebration of the death of the leader of the rebellion and father of the country Dr. John Garang. There are people coming from all over to pray for him and there is no work next Mon, Tuesday, and Wednesday. Juba is the capital of South Sudan and I was given the keys to an SUV to drive through town – back from the internet café whose computers would not allow me to check my email. Though Naples, Italy is most insane place that I have ever driven, especially since they consider traffic lights to be mere decorations and they bump you instead of honking if you stop……driving in South Sudan has no element of breaking the rules. There simply are none. No traffic lights, let alone stop signs – or any signs for that matter…Streets have no names and none are paved…..they are contoured like the ocean during a storm and driving involves navigating holes, dips, 45 degree angles and pedestrians. I think that cars have the right of way, but there are no markings or sidewalks to alert you as to where the street ends or begins. You can see signs of a city that has been neglected, but Havana seems like a modern metropolis compared to Juba. Seeing a city ravaged by 22 years of war is quite mind-numbing. The land where time stopped. The dust is stifling – since all the roads are dirt and well, everything is dirt. Blowing one’s nose at the end of the day is quite an experience.

I have felt a bit like a prisoner at the Uncle’s compound. There were no cars available today and I was trapped. I just read all day. Remember , I can not go out alone. In the evening, went out with Aduei’s brother and friends to a local dive. We walked for a few miles in the pitch black darkness through the stenches of the town. It is amazing that they can navigate in pure darkness. No street lights. We got to the bar and I met a bunch of his friends. It was interesting to see him out of the environment of the elders. He is a player and will drink beer here, but never in front of the family. That is reserved for married men with responsibilities. I had a curfew – when the gates are locked and we cannot bring any outsiders in with us. It is sometimes hard for me to comprehend that I am sleeping in the room next to one of the most powerful men in Sudan and someone who was close to Dr. John Garang. It is told that when Garang finally left the bush to talk peace, Uncle as with him.

I am so concerned that the money will not be distributed to the people. The war heroes are enjoying their peace and are reaping personal benefits – in jobs, connections and money. I went out last night with Aduei’s sister, friend, and we met the Advocate for the Governor – he is a well educated fascinating man, but we spent a half month’s salary for an average Sudanese family on dinner. There is a history of this in Africa where Nigeria is oil rich and I think that over 95% of the oil revenue is helping less than 5% of the population. South Sudan may be overconfident – they are rich in minerals and oil…..but will they build the roads and provide free education for all – and not limit it to the elite?
There is talk of democracy and as I’ve mentioned, the CPA (Comprehensive Peace Agreement) contains wording taking directly from the US Constitution. But for now, it is being stressed that the SPLM must remain strong and unified – not to be divided by tribal differences. The President, Salvia Kiri is a military leader, and I’m not sure there’s any talk about having more than one political party. In five years, when they people vote whether to secede from Sudan or remain united may be the time when there will be two parties – or two factions of one party – one for secession and one for unity. Once again, the key will be education, so that the 15% who can read will not make all the decisions. There is no way that the South will vote for unity. I’ll bet my retirement fund on this (oh yeah, I used that to fund this trip).

Random thought: synergy – sometimes two seemingly or previously unrelated products become associated with one another. The alarm clock and the radio – and the phone and the camera, as just two examples. Here it is the flashlight that is merged with other products. Cell phones have flash lights beaming from the tops, cigarette lighters, when used upside down have flashlights. It makes sense in a county will very little light at night.

The skies are incredible. There are rainbows around the sun, a wall of a rainstorm surrounded by bright sunshine, rain and sun always mixing together and bending light in the most wondrous ways.

Is anyone really reading this babble? Sorry not much to report on the school until I head up to Bor and Malek, but the connections I am making here will make my life easier.

Talked to someone today who asked me what tribe I am from…they cannot believe that America does not have tribes……then I began to think……do we? Then I realized he meant am I Democrat or Republican. He assumed those were the two major tribes.

Note to self – bring antibiotic cream, Band Aids, Advil, bug spray, anti itch cream, and easy books to read…………for the Sudanese……..Actually, bring any medicine.

Met another kid who has no memory of his parents and has been in the refugee camps his whole life. He has just returned to Sudan and will not visit his parents until he has gifts to give them. He is ashamed to show up empty handed.

I am so tempted to take any money I have and give it to any person with a story..but I guess I have to open the school to teach them to fish instead of giving the few fish I have…..This sounds like one of those Save the Children ads, but for many of the people $500 can make a difference in their life. It can pay for a year in school or necessary medical treatment.

Luck – there are so many Lost Boys here who were with Aduei in the refugee camps. It has been a great reunion. They all waited for their names to come up on a list. Aduei was lucky. Others waited for years and years. They checked the lists everyday, only to hear that their name was not on it or that it was lost. How different their lives would be had they been resettled in Australia, Canada or the US.

Uncle is still sick and we cannot leave Juba until he gives the okay and sets up the rest of the trip. No prob, the Sultan of Malek is here and we are getting along quite well. I hope I have a good photo of him………grey hair, thin, and the most intense deep set eyes and high cheekbones – with a gentleness, yet the history of a battle tested soldier.

Everyone has been a soldier here. Everyone has lived in the bush. Everyone has seen more death than I will see in a lifetime. I think they are coming out of a coma, a numbness.

As people get to know me they are admitting that Southern Sudan should secede after the five year interim period. At first they waffled and said lets’ see what the North does.

I am learning to just sit…….there is time……….to sit….and sit…..and sit…….and sit………

It is very hot here.

I still feel that the North will never let the south secede with all the oil and will try to fund various tribes to create war among the southerners as they have done in the past. Getting past the tribal rivalries will be the greatest challenge. Until they can see themselves as south Sudanese and not Dinka or Nuer, this will always be a timber box ready to be lit. (is that what it’s called – a “timber box?”)

Another problem is that the referendum requires the ability to read and over 80 percent of South Sudan is illiterate. Even those who speak English cannot read of write. And democracy is such an abstract term. I do not believe that the leadership is strong enough or bipartisan enough to carry it through It is interesting, if you read Emma’s War, you may not know that Riek Macher is a vice president of Sudan. This was done in an effort to make peace between the Dinka and the Nuer.

Electricity has been turned off and the fight to the mosquito nets is happening.not much power on this machine……..more tomorrow………someday, will I eat anything but goat?

Next morning – okay, I’m so clever. I got inside the mosquito net and killed the one mosquito that was lingering inside. I woke up to 20 bites on my hand. I slept with my hand up against the net and the mosquitoes got me from the outside.

I think I had chicken today, though I would feel more confident if there was a wing in sight. Speaking of wings, watching the eagles soar and then dive to find their prey is something I can do all day.

Went to the big celebration of the one year anniversary of Dr. John Garang – security was tight – it lasted for six hours and I somehow got a VIP pass and sat in the second row – not far from the speakers. Everyone spoke about John Garang – references to George Washington and Martin Luther King……also met with a US State Dept official and a US congressman who was here as part of a delegation. We said we would be in touch when I got back to the US. Garang’s wife and daughter spoke as did an incredible elder.

At the compound again and have not left in a few days…fever is gone and ready to go out……not much food around here…..Have been spending a lot of time with Deng, Aduei’s deaf brother. …it’s great –we have no language barrier……I am teaching him to type and he is very bright. I think I may have said that already. Well, Deng deserves two mentions.

I feel like a doctor here – everyone comes to me with every ailment. There is not even a basic understanding of health care here beyond prayers. No medicines and everyone shares everything and shakes hands constantly. They will blow their nose with their hand and shake your hand……it is so sad the lack of basic understanding and services. Everyone is getting sick….There is always someone with malaria or a fever or a cold…….The sanitary conditions are beyond anything I could have imagined. The Nile water is cloudy and I don’t think my filter works well enough for it – it might be what go me sick……

It is incredible to be surrounded by war heroes from the 22 years of fighting in the bush. The stories of a national struggle from their point of view is enlightening and their hatred for the Arabs in northern Sudan is intense. I have had very little information about the situation in Lebanon and Israel and have heard only bits and pieces, but they all are incredibly supportive of Israel. Their hatred to Arabs – after years of fighting and taken into slavery……..I am still in Juba and this is disjointed – I am typing this in the car………..Uncle is still sick and is being sent to Nairobi for medical treatment. Today, people came from various places and tribes…..i can’t see a thing with the sun beaming down……but people came from different tribes to pary for his health – lots of priests………He wants to talk to me later – once we have our talk, I will be free to head up to Bor and finally to Malek. Fortunately, I know the Sultan of Malek, so I think that all will go well.

I am saving this onto a thumb drive and hopefully will be able to get to one of the ministries and get on a computer………Sorry if the chronology is a bit messed …..
– these are not ideal conditions…..the car keeps hitting huge potholes and I’m not sure what keys I’m hitting, but I want to get something in writing.

Surprise….got driven to the best internet café in Juba – called WOW…….and just we entered we got a call that Uncle was calling for us…and we “hurried” home only to be left waiting and waiting and waiting….it seems that he wants us here, but there are all sorts of government ministers and generals here that must meet with him to decide who is in charge of what while he is gone…….

He has a nasty live-in mistress who nobody likes. Not even Deng. She has ignored us, as she ignores his entire family. We have had no food here and need to go out and find some food when we can………I think I shall begin to lose weight……..she has four servants who have orders to help anyone but her. I am hungry and can’t leave the compound until we have our audience. This is all a bit surreal. ………..it’s getting curiouser and curiouser every minute………I want to get on the boat to Bor already…..i want to see crocodiles and then make plans for the best school South Sudan has ever seen. I lie down and dream about what it will be like. How it will have a mixture of local and international teachers – young, dedicated, and adventurous teachers who are willing to live in Malek. I think about how we can make academics exciting and innovative – and teach critical thinking skills without sacrificing the math/science/engineering skills that are so badly needed. I think about teaching about the South Sudanese constitution and making them able to empower themselves……….and more……….