Sustainable International Development Project

……And There Was Light

2010-06-23T00:18:00.000-07:00

I had wanted not to write anything regarding this. But, I just can’t believe how exciting it is to once again have a room full of lights! I was about three months ago that my room blackout. These dwindle started with my AC not working, then the bathroom lights went out, and finally, the room’s light followed. While I kept hoping for immediate remedy, the situation just got hopeless till this day, 21st of June, 2010.

There were times when I felt so sick and tired. I just wanted to go to my room and rest. But, the sauna-like temperatures of my room dictated otherwise. I spent most of those times in the office, instead.

You know me, I hate complaining. I just wanted to let everything goes and hoped things would change.

Things never did. Instead, I was provoked to send this following email:

Hi Kon,

It has been two months now with the residential Civicon Prefabs (mine included) not having power. I understand there were contractual issues and that wiring needed to be done in a proper way. However, it has come to my attention that, currently, we have an electrical engineer working on the compound. And while, I would think his priority should be fixing the problem with the power in the residential Prefabs, he was directed to work on getting the office in place. And, as I speak, am writing from the office recently installed. I would like to know, therefore, if living condition for the residents is not as important as the working condition. Or, I may be judgemental, what is the reason behind focusing getting this office done, before the residential houses? Thanks, in advance, for your clarifications!!

Panther Alier
Community Development Project Specialist, Northern Bahr el Ghazal State
SUDAN BRIDGE Program
E-mail| palier@field.winrock.org| pantheralier@gmail.com
Phone| Zain +249 91 491 6585|Gemtel +256 477 155315| Sudani +249 127 057 427
Skype| aliergaak
Website| www.winrock.org

To which I got this reply:

Dear Panther,

I hope Paul had already signed the electrical wiring contract with us and he is working on it and that is why you do see him doing working around. We cannot tell him that do it as soon as possible, since it is already electrical wiring, it needs more attention from him to make sure that connection he made will not trouble us in the future. Should we attempt to tell him that, make as soon as possible then, we will encounter electrical problem and that is not our desire. Yes, we have to push him but we need to respect the electrical law. I do talk to him that our people are suffering, can you try your best do something possible but he do answer me that I need somewhat that will last long but not possible for a while and bring you in the same trouble we are escaping now again. Me I don’t want to have power problem once he finished the connection.
Panther I knew the long- suffering you people had been in but I apologies for that and be enduring, its remain only some little time to be relief out from the power issue.
Thanks.

Whatever!

I don’t know whether he actually understood what I was saying. This email was a reply to my message sent out on the 9th of June, 2010. On it, I made sure I copied the Team Leader. Although the compound’s constructions fall under the logistician, I am almost sure the Team Leader made the decision to work on the office first, forgetting that staffs are neither happy nor productive when subjected to harsh conditions.

I suspected this because, when he came back from his leave, he shifted to a new room shortly after finding out that his prefab, which is in the same line as mine, did not have lights. Previously, he instituted policy to shutdown generator after 11 pm. That works fine with the kind of prefabs he vacated, but not so good with the new one he moved to. This new prefab has only two windows facing the same direction. This makes it difficult to get in enough air unless the AC/fan is working. There, his policy of shutting down generators at night worked against him on that particular night. The night after, a 24 hour generator policy immediately took effect. This, of course, was good news for at least those whose electricity worked in their rooms.

And for me? I had to wait for a day like this. Although my AC still does not work, I can now, at least, put on fan and there will be enough air to keep me cool. I am sorry if this particular article has been too much of things that have not gone right. It is also about new lights and hope that things are now changing for better. By the way, we just had a Team Leaders’ change. We have received a Team Leader from one of our other three States and ours will go to replace him. More will come on these new changes. Wish us the best of luck!

An Eye Opening Experience

2010-05-29T05:35:00.000-07:00

I always have difficulty describing what exactly I do, when asked. Immediately after I open my mouth to mention the Sudan BRIDGE, people reach conclusions: building bridges across the Sudan. No. I build mutual bridges, not physical. I create linkages between the servants and the masters; if this idea exists in Sudan its remotest sense!

The government entities and the communities are supposed to work together, in any country in the world, to attain the highest standard of development. They must support/complement each other for the welfare of both. This concept is none-existence in Sudan’s Southern region. Here, we (the Southern Sudanese) have better excuse: the long civil war in Southern Sudan overshadowed whatever role the government’s institutions would play in the last 23 years. Only UN and other INGOs are seen as saviors of lives here. And the government is running on that propaganda: “we have no money to provide for all that is needed by a common man”! This is a song so much desired by government’s agencies here.

Now, who is responsible? This is a reason USAID came up with “Building Responsibility for the Delivery of Government Services: BRIDGE”. The BRIDGE I build stands on pillars of responsibility to deliver services to the people. That must be a new protocol. The war (I should qualify, the high level) has stopped and people must show they have fought a justified war by means of delivering whatever little they can. This is where my role becomes critical.

The government, or whoever is able, can only do deliver only if they knew whatever it is that to be delivered. The needs must be clearly articulated, prioritized, and presented by whomever these needs concerned. I make sure the matters understand and know what exactly, or close to that, they need to be delivered.

So, I work to empower people on issues of education, livelihoods/agriculture, water and hygiene and sanitation. These are areas which I called, “citizens empowerment”. So last week, I traveled to the field to work on promoting enterprise in rural communities. The program is to support small business enterprise through either expansion of existing small businesses or opening of new ones. We were surveying, by means of observation and discussions, within market in Nyamlell in Aweil West County, when we came to a small food serving “restaurant”. It was packed with people eating delicacies (according to local standard). We got so curious and wanted to investigate more on the nature of the business.

The owner of the business is a single mom with four children and has been running the business for over six months. She has few workers, but none could read and write to keep records. To her, “it has been a profitable business”! So we dug in more. We wanted to see how we can help her business expand. My colleague, Henry Jurugo, the enterprise officer, set in with some technical questions. We went down item by item so that we better judge the profitability of the business. With the help of our Agriculture Liaison Officer, who is a local, could do a better job of interpretation, because my (Dinka Bor) language varies a little bit from that of Dinka Malual’s. The businesswoman gave us prices of item bought per day and we calculated that against the daily revenue less expenses on workers.

If she was close or exactly right on her estimations, we discovered, she was running at loss! Yes, the devil is in the details! This was an eye opening event: she said, repeatedly, that she would hire someone to keep records of her all transactions. We jokingly agreed and suggested our staff to keep the records for her at a price of a meal per a day. But, the good news is, we are working with her to expand the business and this will be one success story. This is what is meant by building responsibility for the delivery of services. This is it for now. I hope you enjoyed reading this article!!

The Trigger

2010-05-02T02:23:00.000-07:00

I feel ashamed and embarrassed for having betrayed your loyalty and suddenly popping up here after so long gone! This is despite so many reminders from Abel Mote that the last time I posted something was in 2009! This is true but, I have countless excuses to make: work, marriage, and so forth. And be cautioned, with too much accumulated, the theme of this article will be so sporadic: the Triggers! Never in my lifetime have I ever imagined how costly a price for a wife is! I sometimes feel I should have waited and saved enough to finish with everything at once. But, someone has advised me against such plan: “never think you have to feel completely prepared for marriage!” he warned. I took the advice and now I feel there are endless marriage problems to solve.

That being said, something special is here that gives me a great deal of comfort. I have finally felt self-structured. I have someone in my life that I called “sweetheart” and soon-to-be mother of my child(ren). Her name is Yom Deng Bul. She is one unique character. Her story of childhood is a testament to what I so much love about her. She lost her mother at a very early age. She and her younger brother lived unimaginable life. I am not fit to recall her story; I just hope she, one day, will be able to put it down on a paper. But, I can authoritatively say, her story is one of resilience.

On the work front, there is something to feel proud too. With the kind of work we (community development persons) do, hearing your name being praised is just priceless. If you can recall from previous articles, I assist communities to establish community-based entities, namely community action groups, to work on their community’s behalf. I visited one of the villages we work in, when my wife visited, here in Northern Bahr el Ghazal, and it was incredible to see a village chief running to greet me! Even more exciting was the presence of my wife to see, in person, the kind of work and the people I sacrifice for.

I became well known in this community, because I brought them new approach to development and new techniques to their farming systems. Well, technically, I mobilized and sensitized members to adopt new practices and the farming techniques were later on imparted on them by our agriculture team. As part of our livelihoods effort, our project (Sudan BRIDGE) works to change peoples’ attitude and give them new skills to be able to produce food and diversify their productions.

In this particular village, Majok Adim, the members adapted and embraced new approach so well that they continue to produce variety of vegetables like never before. I was humbled when one of the producer group members testified that (paraphrased) in their village, they only know of one season (rainy) for growing crops. But, with Sudan BRIDGE, they are now able to grow and harvest in dry season. This example is just for one village; there many others with similar stories. However, I must admit, not every community work in has embraced efforts for self-reliance. Others have been so disappointing: way entrenched in old relief mentality. It will take mountain to move them. Or better still, it will take World Food Programmes move away so that people think this is endless supply.

Recently, something phenomenal happened on this soil. People all over Sudan went to the polling stations to vote for their leaders. But, this article is limited to South Sudan people. They conducted elections against all odds that faced them. Chief of which was the nature of voting ballots. A voter had 12 ballots to cast. Mind you, this is a region whose major of its people have never witnessed art of voting. They all did what any citizen of any country could do, if given the opportunity to do so: voting. And if you followed the Sudan’s election, the South Sudanese voted overwhelming for their leader; Lt. Gen. Salva Kiir Mayardit for President. The elections had hiccups here and there, but I felt the completion of the exercise is just good a trigger to resume my blogging.

Our Voting Is Done in Public

2009-09-20T04:36:00.000-07:00

The kind of work that I do here in Sudan’s Northern Bahr el Ghazal State can be very stressful. I am trying to establish systems that aren’t there. I work from village to village facilitating village development committees, known as Community Action Groups (CAGs). The word to underscore there is “action”. I emphasize on this because leadership is slightly misunderstood here. To some, leadership means giving peoples instructions and boosting them around. And this is commonly practice in Dinka communities. I say this because am a Dinka and understand the concept well. I must point out though; the concept of leadership is also understood differently among the village illiterates.
Traditionally, leaders who won hearts and minds of their followers were those who demonstrated spirit of shared responsibilities. As far as I can remember, when I was a young boy growing up in the village, I witnessed some pretty impressive layers of Dinka’s leadership. There were leaders in what they called “Beny Wur” also known in other Dinka’s version as “nhom e Gol”. This is a position attains when one shows these two traits; a good wrestler with many herds of cows. You have to be also generous to help the needy ones at times when your help is needed. The other area one becomes a leader is the village. In many cases, village is where elders retire in. Cattle camps are left for young energetic people who are able to take cattle grazing in some distance places. It’s also a place where young Dinka boys and girls are sent to learn some useful live skills there. While in the village, elder now practice farming to support their livelihoods as well as that of those in the cattle camps in cases where there are few or no lactating cows. But, more importantly, the village is where important issues are discussed and resolved. In other words, even those in the cattle camps are within the jurisdiction of village chiefs.
This traditional leadership is less corrupt and more caring then what is seen with more affluent leaders. In fact, village chiefs were used and still are used for levying taxes. There is usually a great accountability and transparency in the way they do their things. Many issues are discussed in a caucus of elders (chiefs) and disseminated in the same manner.
So when I say “leadership means giving peoples instructions and boosting them around”, it is in the context of elites. This is why word “action” becomes a centerpiece of my discussion when I do community mobilization. Additionally, I am dealing with communities devastated by war and sense of self-reliance has been completely shattered. Their independent live style has been replaced by relief services in the last twenty two years. People have gotten used to free things that it has become a detriment to their own livelihoods.
That is why I am focusing on establishing these action groups. As part of the USAID program to create sustainable livelihoods in these villages, my work is to make this goal achievable. I have my team of community development stationed in the counties that our program operates in. This was to maintain visibility and closeness with these communities. Besides, I get immediate feedbacks from them about what the community thinks about our work. So far this had worked.
But, the most important strategy has been election of the members. To able to form a Community Action Group (CAG), there are few things that are done before. First, we employed the widely known development methodologies known as Appreciative Inquiry (AI) and Appreciative Planning & Action (APA). These methodologies stimulate the community’s curiosity, which, therefore, calls for action. At that point, the idea becomes locally born and is immediately own by them. The call for action is that members have to be elected by the community. Perhaps, I have mentioned in my previous article, that these gatherings are attended by a number between 200 to 300 villagers. As such gatherings are new in many of these areas; they draw people of different ages and sexes. In election, members are first nominated by the assembly and then elected through plurality.
I must point out that our elections, although quite remote a process, are the most transparent you can ever ask for. Candidates are lined up, and general assembly chooses by lining behind a candidate of choice. Given the communal way of live in these communities, it must be hard to show favor in public. At first, I feared this would be the case. But, it never did. Almost everyone who attends these gatherings tends to vote. This is why I think we have just established “a brave democracy”. We do not need secret valets here!

Becoming A Star!

2009-08-25T08:19:00.000-07:00

Abel Mote keeps reminding me that I run a risk of losing my audience if I don’t update my blog soon. This has been my worry all along. I never anticipate that I will never have personal time to write! This is because, even with greater effort I put to meet every dateline I set for my project, I still find myself way behind. First of all, I traveled to the States and stayed there for more than a month. And recently, I got a medical condition that kept me away for treatment for about two weeks. And then there are some other programmatic delays. All these have made me feel like I am chasing a train that has already pulled away from the station…not quite…maybe I feel like boarding and discovered that the Charlie card is missing; and now feel disorganized completely! I am trying to catch up with everything. So, I must say, this is the reason you have not heard from me, my dear readers. But I will keep my promise to give you updates as much as I can and as time allows.
So here are some few updates. I have come to like my work so much. Being a community organizer feels unique in its own way. You have to be ready for disappointments as well as excitements. It brings you closer to common man—mankind, no offend!! I see real desperations as well as optimisms in the eyes of people on daily basis. But, what is so rewarding about this kind of work is that I feel like am sowing seeds of development as well as roots of progress in the villages I work in. My community development portfolio aims to establish what we called Community Action Groups (CAGs) and Women Support Groups. These are provisional councils of Bomas. A Boma is a small, but bigger than a village, administrative entity within a Payam. And a Payam is an administrative boundary lower than a County. Sorry for all these Southern Sudanese terms!
To get a community action group, I do multiple visits to the village where the CAG/WSG is to be established. I meet with villagers, chiefs, and local government officials. In these meetings, I make sure it clear to everyone who different our approach to development is from development during war times: Building Responsibility for the Delivery of Government Services (BRIDGE) is to change things from relief times to sustainable development. My project is to create that sustainability at the community level. My goal is to assist these communities to own development of their own villages so that nonprofit organizations don’t worry about long term sustainability.
This ownership starts with members of the community elected to a CAG/WSG. These elections draw very large crowd. For many in these communities, elections are new phenomenon. Everyone is excited to be part of this new thing. People line up behind their candidates of their choice. In one of the Bomas that I my team has established a CAG/WSG, something fascinating to watch happened. A woman candidate was neck and neck to a man. This was especially interesting given the culture here: patriarchy. A man later won 107 to 103 votes. I really was hoping the woman win; people in this particular Boma continue to amaze me, nevertheless.
I feel am becoming a star in doing this community mobilization activities. I just find it interesting to standing in front of 200-300 people, and to explain to them how development of their communities must come from them. I share with them my experiences and what I have seen in all the places I have been to. Sometimes, I surprise myself when people give me round of applause every time I open my mouth! But, what is important to me is my conviction to them—my people. I want to see that they change from the state of dependency to become self-reliance. This, I believe, will be achieved when these communities realized their potential and work with these action groups to initiate process of development.

Me and My Money-belt

2009-06-14T19:24:00.000-07:00

I did not want to appear stringent. But promoting corruption is not something I would ever encourage either. Plus, I was already feeling anxious about the prospect of my money-belt being stolen. I had made a grave, soon to be regretted, mistake by pulling out my money-belt, fearing it would trigger security alarm at the security check –in. While I was getting ready to pass through the checkpoint, between two to three guys crowded to help me to go through the security checkpoint. I wanted to tell them, “I have been here and I had gone through this checkpoint several times; back off!” But, as I was getting my perfume and other essentials out of my computer bag, one of the guys had already pushed, through into the baggage check machine, the tray I had placed both my watch and the money-belt. And more importantly, he went on to the other side of the checkpoint. I was still struggling to get off the rest of stuff that would trigger security alarm, when my most valuable item arrived on the other side of the conveyor belt.
When I arrived on that other side of the security checkpoint, the guy who went with my money-belt, more mysteriously, traded ways with me out. My fears got deeper. I wanted to start counting my money right there. But, I was also conflicted by this act. I did not want to appear either suspicious or showing off. And my more pessimist side told me, “If the guy stole the money, counting the remaining would not help bring back that which has been stolen”. This was the “inconvenient trust” part I had to come to term with.
So! Next, at the check-in desk, the attendant wanted to talk. I had excess luggage. I figured, “this must be kitu kidogo thing!” And this other guy, who was standing next to me, but different from the one at the security’s gate, said, “This is too much luggage, but we will talk”. I got confused. But, the lady at the desk really wanted to talk! She put the price at a hundred US dollar. This was just to bribe myself out!
I had emailed our office in Nairobi to inform them of my excess luggage out of Nairobi to Juba. And I was assured of this request, and out associate in Nairobi reminded me the night before my flight that “all is set for me to fly on the East African Express”. So when everyone appears eager to get my money, I told the attendant, “I was told excess luggage has been booked by our office here in Nairobi”. That got the attendant edgy. And the guy next to me set off for other lucks out there. I offered to call the person who booked the ticket. They wanted to call their office, instead. Nothing seems to be working out, so I went ahead and called our associate who later on contacted the airline. Problem solved! I was told to go ahead and enjoy my flight—to which, I responded, “I sure will!”
I understand you have to pay for an excess luggage anywhere in the world. But, I was deeply troubled by the way this whole thing was being handled. Also I understand those who were involved don’t get paid well enough, so they feel the need to make extra bucks where they can. Or, for some like the guy at the gate and at the desk, doing what they do is an employment in itself. In fact, my taxi was signaled to pull over by the police just as we were approaching the airport facility. The driver, knowing what exactly this policeman wants, lowers his right hand and drop what appeared to me like 50 ksh, and said, “Here you go boss!” Honestly, I do feel sorry for them.
I am, however, a strong believer in legal system. Inadequate is not a good reason to keep beating the system. If I were to pay a hundred bucks, I need a receipt. Plus, I wanted to make sure I don’t double pay, even if this were at all genuine procedures!! That was my introduction to Africa. I only have few hours left to fly to my final destination. Till then, I hope.

The Roundabouts

2009-02-20T21:40:00.000-08:00

Some of you may be wondering why I haven’t been posting blogs for this long. And I must apologize for having introduced you and promise to keep feeding you back some description of my Sudan’s stay and about my work. Things have been incredibly busy here. Just to get my project rolling, I have been running here and there between governments and NGOs offices and from county to county and from Boma (village) to Boma. So I am taking this little time, 7 am in the morning, to try to fulfill my promise to you: to write at least one blog for this month. I am also doing my master’s paper and it’s not fun!!

In my first to trip to one of the counties I will be working in, Aweil North, I saw these hilarious scenes of roundabouts. This area is mostly populated by returnees. Years before the war and years after, the Arabs sponsored militia has been operating here. Literally, they are equivalent of current Janja weed operations in Darfur. Even the locals here call them jur aa jiewak (people of the horse). They are raided cattle, abducted children and women (in most cases the rapped them). I heard grim stories of how the lynched people here during the war. This was good enough a recipe for complete desertion of the area. So when war came to an end just about four years ago, people who survived these atrocities quickly came back to settle in their places. And with the creation of the semi-autonomous government of South Sudan, they started to design administrative boundaries between states, counties, and payam. This also meant creation of local governments for these administrative entities. Now begin the real development. They started making roads. By the way, as a side note, this roads construction caused great destruction in many of the villages in Aweil areas. The road construction company literally thwarted waterways and creating no passage for the water to flow. In places where they should have built bigger culverts, they put in place something that looks like an open barrel of oil on both ends. These were not enough to drain water away fast. So the water decided to show its might: whole of Aweil town and the surrounding was underwater in the last rainy season. This is not meant to bore you; I am trying to put this into development’s perspectives. Once can see clear neglect this whole entire story. This can be an example of where consultation has gone terribly wrong. Either the road construction company failed, out of ignorance, to consult with local communities or they just cared about achieving their goals of building roads to be paid their contract agreement’s money.

So as I was driving north of Aweil town to Gok-Machar, administrative head of Aweil North County, I saw another example of failure of this roads construction company to consult with communities. Huts after huts were sitting in the middle of the road. When I talk about roads, I mean piles of mud compacted hard enough to pave way to these remote areas. They are good until it starts raining; and we may be back in square one again. But the whole point of this discussion is to see relevancy in doing development. In the mind of this roads construction company or whoever sponsored these roads constructions, development meant physical existence of roads. While this may be true to some extent, development must mean more than that. It must mean physical existence up to a point where other necessary conditions are met. It must mean sustainability. It must mean overall public awareness and serious community consultations. And when these preconditions are not met, you end up being force to unnecessary roundabouts such as the one you see in the picture.

Mango trees are also sacred here and you don’t want to touch them! They can have their own roundabouts
I hope you enjoy reading it. More will come when I find some times in the morning such as this one.

The Morning Prayers

2009-01-30T21:40:00.000-08:00

After a long and tiresome orientation and training for our new Building the Responsibility for the Delivery of the Government Services (BRIDGE) program funded by the USAID, I was now ready to be deployed at my field based office. In the morning of January 26th, 2009, I boarded a UN charter plane heading to Wau, Southern Sudan. Wau will host our team while our compound or best arrangements are being made for us to eventually move to Aweil. Aweil is the capital of the Northern Barh el Ghazal State where I will be building capacities of the local communities and governments to work collaboratively to identify and address their needs. Our flight on Monday morning to Wau was a short, but fascinating one. Topography of the land as we cruise high in the air was amazingly beautiful. The season here is very dry (locally known as summer). But trees are generally green. And streams still follow constantly. But what amazed me the most was the change in the sky. I sat at the window so that I can continually enjoy this incredible look of the ground from the sky. I was mapping everything I saw our route. Suddenly, something interest happened. I saw, ahead of us, what looked like a mountain of snow/cloud. Then came a block of could which mushroomed an entire area for about 10-15 minutes of our flight time. At the movement, I felt like I was cruising in a snow-belt of Northeast of the United States of America! Fascinating! A movement later, we passed that and the space below us started clearing up. I could see bushes burning from the ground. A few minutes later, our plane started descending to Wau area. There, I could see a meandering of tributaries. I saw what appeared to be nice beaches at the river-beds. And as we get closer to landing, I saw what looked like a bricks making industry happening along the riverbanks. Our plane landed in Wau and plane attendance graciously welcomed us to Wau city. The airport control tower is a UN mobile facility. We got out and were directed to a common place where our languages would be sent to. There, our driver was waiting for us. Temperature here felt extremely hot! Generally, Sudan’s weather feels hot. You would think I am a Sudanese and must be used to it! Anyways, we started off to where we would stay for the next few days. While in Juba, we were told to stay in River Lodge Hotel. But, it appeared we headed to the Afex camp where several tents were booked for us. I asked the operation manager “what happened to the River Lodge Hotel booking”? He told me, there were some miscommunications from our Nairobi’s office logistics coordinator. So we spent two days in that camp before we finally moved to the River Lodge. I must confess I felt in love with tents. When we moved to the Hotel here; and I checked to my room, I was so excited by the fact that this was a step up from the camp. Well, I couldn’t be more wrong! These big red-brick walls rooms just feel like oven at night. All the heat observed during the day is released internally at night when its start cooling down from external. And fans in the ceiling are too high that fanning at the maximum does not even matter. So I asked to rent a tent instead. In fact, I am writing this now in my tent! It is a self contain tent and just feel as comfortable as any other well furnished facility. But the whole point of this blog is to tell you a bit about Wau city. As we drop through this city, I got amazed by how much different it is to the rest of Southern Sudan’s cities. In fact, appears more metropolitan than Juba is. Here, you see an urban designed city where streets like that off New York can be seen. Besides, this is the only city in Southern Sudan that you can see street lights perfectly spaced to lighten the streets. More importantly, this is a place where Arabic culture is more prominent than anywhere in Southern Sudan. There are more mosques than there are schools. And in the morning you hear loud microphones almost in every corner of this town shouting morning prayers. I believe this might be only explanation to this disparity in city designs over Southern Sudan. After all, its culture brings it one closer to powerful Arabs countries. In fact, someone just told me the city power here was donated by Hassan Mubarak of Egypt.

Christmas With Family

2009-01-08T01:24:00.000-08:00

Christmas celebration with family was great as this was first time with them in 22 years. I arrived at home on the 23rd and found that my folks were concerned I was not going to make it for Christmas day! Interestingly, they remembered I told them I would arrive on the 23rd, but for some reasons their level of anxiety had already risen when I arrived. It was not just to celebrate with them that topped their agenda, it seems. They expected me to bring for them new clothes and other Christmas amenities. Indeed, I had packed a duffel bag of used clothes and brought it with me. What mattered to me really was for them to have something to wear—old or new did not concern me much. Marching for Christmas celebration started at around 3 pm local time on December 24th, 2008. Here in Sudan, the weather is so hot. I failed to brave it so I retired to just standing under a tree to watch people singing and marching. They were singing with a rhythm that was family from my childhood. In Dinka, it goes: wo be rur ne cath duurku, wo be rur ne cath abe piny run. Dor ku wa ee kool ebenydit ee cen ben. Aa kaar be meenh ebeny dhiil ben. English translation: We will march praying. We will march the whole night till dawn. Let’s praise the lord, this the day He came. I want the son of God to come. This use to be a hit song! People kept singing till morning of Christmas day. But this time things appeared different. Everyone gathered at the church compound to waiting for the birth of the Messiah—the midnight baby. They all came with their mosquito nets as malaria is till the top killer in the region. In fact, I was so careless on this trip and I am about to pay for it. I had called home, while still in the States, to ask whether the floods that were there when I visited the area were still a problem in the village. I told the water had receded and that it was completely dry as the dry season started. I foolishly equated that as a recess for the mosquitoes! So, I left the US for Sudan unprepared. I arrived home the conditions where just as worst they were in September when I first visited. Mosquitoes’ pandemic disturbed church’s atmosphere of praying as the congregation waited for the son of God to be born at midnight. There is widespread level of insecurity as well. In a normal circumstance, or at least from what I remember of how Christmas celebration where done years prior to 1987, people would marching whole night as the song indicated. But, these are not normal circumstances—there is pandemic of mosquitoes coupled with greater insecurity. So I ended up sleeping at home and hoped that the blessing from the baby Jesus would trickledown to us who were sleeping away from the church. The morning came and the service was about to start. I hurriedly went to the church for prayers. The prayer leader led us to prayers and singing began. It was something I never imagined; certainly not what I saw 22 years ago. You see elders jumping up and down full with joy and spirit. Honestly, the environment was no longer soothing—I was caught off guard. Even the preaching got very interesting. The preacher was preaching and someone in the congregation got offended. Normally, you would take sermon that touch you in any way, good or bad, to be God’s message to you. Again, that is normally as I remember from 22 years ago. But, now is now and things must work, I suppose, the way they do now. That’s how much Christmas celebration went. Now, I am back in our office in Juba and will be traveling to Nairobi Kenya for our program’s launch workshop. It looks like I am going to have very interesting materials to work with for my blog in the next few months. Until then, I wish everyone Happy New Year 2009. Salaam alakum (peace be with you)!!

An Empty House

2008-12-22T18:11:00.000-08:00

I wanted to return back to Sudan so badly that when I learned heavy snow storm was zeroing in on the day of my flight, I had to be very smart about it. Changing flight time became an added item to my already overbooked things-to-do list. I had stayed up a few nights before the night of my flight—but one more night would not hurt. I called to check with the United Airline a possibility of beating storm out of Boston to District of Colombia, D.C. for my connection flight. In deed, there was a slot on the 7 o’clock flight—and I said to the agent, “I would like to have that…I can not afford to miss my international flight out of D.C.”. When I landed in D.C I realized I had just less than 10 hours to kill before my next flight. I called my cousin from Richmond VA and he agreed to come get me so we can go hang out in Arlington VA—to go meet some Sudanese in the area. I ate a sizzling Ethiopian food for lunch; we were all so happy to catch up again. He and his friends dropped me off at Dulles International Airport to continue my long journey. Since, I do not usually sleep well on the plane I started reading “Three Cups of Tea”. Great book! In fact, I may use the scene where villagers carry on their backs school’s construction materials that were cut off by a landslide that blocked the road. It shows me a resilience of and contribution by the local villagers in Afghanistan toward development projects once their trust in outside support is obtained. While in the air and our plane had reached the level of stability, flights attendances started offering dinner: I passed that on. I still was comfortable with the Ethiopia food I had earlier. Security check in Heathrow Airport was a little stressful as I was already used to this kind of routine. The last time I was here, I could not understand the logical behind security to check for the connecting passengers, who had just gotten off one plane in order to board another one short thereafter. I guess I will never understand why. But one can only draw a conclusion; they do this because they are Brits. It is the very same reason why they chose to partition Africa in such a puzzling way! I waited at the terminal for the gate of my flight to be assigned. “KA 103 Nbi will board at gate 14”, the board reads. I wheeled my carry-on to the gate. The boarding would not take place for almost another one hour. No reason for delay was announce. I began to think the African time is in our DNA, including our Airlines. In the process of frustration, I noticed that my boarding pass does not say my seating. So, I decided to check with the gate attendant. She told me I was not check in: I should go back the Kenya Airways’ service desk to be checked in. I did as told. Now we were on our way to Jombo Kenyatta International Airport. We our time of arrival by about 30 minutes: if there were air traffic police, we probably would have gotten a speeding ticket. I needed a transit VISA and, at the service desk, the agents were incredibly slow. This man kept speaking on the phone while we wait in line in rows of 4-5! The other gentleman kept bringing people from behind to be served at the side ways. I guess I need to stay at the end of the line and be willing to pay extra for an expedited service. When are we going to change this behavior! Anyways, I got to the front line finally and bought my transit visa so I can sleep for a few hours before my next flight to Juba, Southern Sudan. I got to Juba and now felt a commoner to the place. I saw George at the airport, again. He welcomed me back home as he did the last time. But, the only difference this time is that I was like an acquaintance to him. He even asked if I brought something for him for Christmas. Of course, I did not. I told him, I did not expect to see him again this time. He understood. I proceeded to the check in desk, where I was again automatically given the Sudanese sign in sheet. I really wanted to sign in there this time. But the problem was where would I get the rest of information needed to fill in the form? I have no Sudanese passport. Nor do I have a permanent address here in Juba. So, I politely asked for the foreigner sign in sheet in order to show my legal existence. Since we (Winrock International) are in between programs here in Juba, our facility has no drivers to come pick me up at the airport. I was instructed to pick up keys for the facility from the security company. I looked around for the taxi, but could not see any. So, Kuol, a friend I made when we were in line for boarding in Kenya, decided to give me a ride. We got lost. So I called Steve, the security person and gave him over to talk to my friend. We made a U-turn back toward the airport then to the side road. It looked like I had already given my friend enough hard times so I asked the security people to give me a ride to my final destination instead. They graciously agreed. This turned out to be a great move on my part as we later on discovered I was given wrong keys. This would have given Kuol enough reason to never ever offer a ride to strangers! When I entered our guesthouse, it looked completely deserted; it is an empty house. I went around unlocking rooms and not finding any bedding. I opened what I thought was a store with a key rightly leveled, but there was nothing in it. The guesthouse manager is a Kenyan and had gone back to spend Christmas with her family. I do not blame her for that. After all, it is the very same reason I am rushing back here so I can spend my first ever Christmas holiday with my family in 21 years! But, it is probably a good reason I should mention thinking about having a Sudanese guesthouse’ manager or assistant manager, to man this facility while expatriates leave for their countries, as a possibility to my boss. The day, I came I called my cousin who has a car and he promised to come so I can go get some items to use for the time I am here. Unluckily, his car broke down! And Juba being what it is, I had no choice but walk to places closer to our compound. Now, I have his wife’s gift that I brought. But, since I am not going to see them, she will have to wait till when I return from Bor. It is amazing how difficult it is to go around here in Juba when you are new to the area and have no means of transportation. I guess you have got the gist of it. This is it for now, till next time I am back from the village in Bor, to give you more updates on me and the Sudan. I wish everyone Happy Holidays and a prosperous New Year!!

What do I see different now?

2008-11-20T10:38:00.000-08:00

When I was 9 or younger, I played with my cousins in our neighborhood. Running around in the baking sun, which potentially could cause serious illnesses, was a simple lifestyle that brought joy to my little heart. I did not see, or had not developed my intelligence enough to notice that there was something missing—life was not complete. This was more than 20 years ago. Then, I came back to my family more than 20 years later and here is what I saw. Now, my family is large. I have two sisters and two brothers and factor-in their offspring, including my brother’s second wife, and you will know what I mean by large. Out of a periphery, there are uncles with their wives and children and grand children. This would be called extended family in modern sense. But, we understand it differently in our traditional world. There is nothing extended. We all share what each member of our families is blessed with. So when I went back home this September 2008, I was confronted with real problems that I believed needed some solutions. When I talked to members of my family, they were willing to express what they saw clearly as problems: sickness, lack of cattle, lack of clothes, lack of food, and some just need money for whatever reasons best known to them. However, there were certainly some problems that were invisible to them, but clearly apparent enough for me to notice. Children were running around from Sun rise to Sun set. There was no school in the neighborhood for them to go to. Women were still traveling about a mile to go fetch water from the Nile River. This was the water I bathed in, and, most likely, the water used to cook my food. At least I knew that by the time the food reaches me, whatever germ in that water has undergone serious boiling to be too lethal to kill anymore. In fact, the real people I was worried then were those that went to fetch this water. To go to the bank of the Nile one has to walk bare foot and against the tie of flood that had encroached everywhere. Besides, there are crocodiles in the Nile that could possibly be waiting in the other end. I was also worried every morning that I saw my nephews and nieces wade through the water to go to the huts. I was concern that chances of these children catching a guinea worm in this water were as high as 85%. Or the worse case scenario would be snake bite in that water. Another curse of this water is infestation of mosquitoes. In this area, mosquitoes go so vicious. And if you had a mosquito net, like I did, you can hear them crying from the outside the net as if you owe them your own blood! Knowing that malaria is number killer of children in the continent of Africa gave me chills and more worries. I would be less human if this reality did not sink through and made me worried that something terrible can happen anytime one is beaten by malaria virus’s carrier mosquito. Besides, I arrived just about time when people would be harvesting their yields, if this was a blessed year. Unfortunately, all that was planted was washed away by flood. I would have not believed that anything was planted in those fields, if this destruction was shown to me in a video. But, the destruction was so pervasive that no crop was spared. Even today, I still ask myself: what will they eat now till the next harvest? In other words, what I saw generated the following questions in my mind. Do I see more challenging things that my family sees as less challenging? Or do we see the same challenges, but my family just does not have solutions insight to make any different choices? Or, perhaps, they just don’t see a way out given this is how they have always lived their lives dated back many generations.

2008-10-09T20:35:00.000-07:00

Mom, I am a Grown Man

2008-10-02T09:31:00.000-07:00

I needed time to fully digest and process all events during my visit with my family, in order to able to compose this article. This is due to this message being so touching and deep in my soul. It is about family love. Though I tried in my previous article to show a glimpse of how it was like to be back to my own family in more than 20 years, I think I might be in a right position now to fully give a narrative of what actually happened. Everyone gathered to see me and hear what I had to say about the world that has kept me away from them for so long. Kids congregated to hear from an uncle who has come from far as their eyes could see. And I don’t blame them for seeing their world this small. After all, that was how I saw my world before it opened up in a rather unfortunate way. They all came to demonstrate their loves for one who had been missing for years. My sister, Ajoh Alier, now married with two daughters, got too excited to be first in line of those greeting, hugging, and kissing me. Or she was playing it smart to remain last in line so she could enjoy a long and emotional greeting. She was giggling in the back like a too excited 3 year old girl. My other sister, Akut Alier, heard I have come back home. So she took off living her children behind to come to show her love for me. She lives 6 hours away from Bor town, which is a little away from Malek where I am now being hosted. She was holding up a cross on her right hand and a small hand bag on the left. She had a gift for me. I heard she has a small sorghum’s farm and just had first harvest. She intended to cook for me tok mixed with guarjaac. Tok are freshly harvest sorghum prepared in some special way I can never explain. Guarjaac are byproduct of a tree called Thou (pronounce as in thou-sand). It produces fruits like dates tree. It has shell outside and has nuts from inside which is also eatable. There are what the Dinka called Guarjaac. You mix them with Tok and it feels something like mixed peanuts with corns. I was amazed she still had these nuts as the season had been out for 5 months now. The last time I had this kind of meal was in 1987. My aunt’s daughter, Abiar Atong Makuei, has arrived the other day and now sleeps in the same room as I am. She brought with her a male goat to be killed for me. To her, I am her mother’s last born. I was probably around 3 or 4 year old when my aunt took me to her home. I grew up there till the war departed us. I grew up knowing no one but them. This was the reason we spent the first night talking and rewind tapes till the days prior to the tragedy of 1987. Together, we laughed and cried to these memories. In addition to these special treatments, the big day was a prayer day. Traditionally, this would be a sacrifice day. My brothers, Majier Alier and Mac Alier, have bought a bull so people in our community could share in happiness that has come to the family. Everyone was in a celebratory mood. And while this family’s jubilee for my arrival was going on, two of my uncles’ wives were absent. They both live in distances a day trip from opposite directions. To get to one, you have to row a boat up the stream and, onto the other side of the River Nile. So her son, my cousin, paddled a traditionally made boat to her on the next day to convey this rather pleasant news of the week for the family—“Panther Alier is back from exile”! And upon hearing this, she wasted no time. She decided to come back on the same boat as her son. After all, how could she waste any time when she felt she was my mother! In Dinka’s culture, a woman who is married to a father’s brother socially acquires a mother’s status. She wanted to provide what I have been missing for all these years—being cared for. She had on her some gifts. She had a freshly made crunchy peanut paste called Makuanga. Besides, she brought along with her a fish called Lek to be cooked by my cousin’s wife. She remembers from my childhood that I liked this fish so much that it would be a pleasant reminder of my childhood. My other uncle’s wife walked a day long trip from Kolnyang. In fact, Kolnyang is my birthplace. I had wanted to go there but I was warned against taking that trip. I would have to wade in water to get there. And everyone was not sure my Americanized body would support me through it should I brave the flood. Another factor that kept me from going to Kolnyang is that everyone, except my uncle and his wife, now lives closer to the Nile River—this appeared a little strange to me. I remember, from my childhood, that living near the Nile River was a seasonal occurrence. But, war has changed everything and almost everyone from my family now lives here. People’s livelihoods have been uprooted. I could not blame them for having left our old home (pan theer) to live in this rather unsettled condition. So, I decided to just send my love to my uncle’s family and hoped I would see them on my next trip back to Bor. And little did I know my uncle and his wife would brave those odds: they showed up the night before the prayers where done. My uncle could not walk fast as he was in ailing conditions caused by his chronic sickness and supported by his old age. But my uncle’s wife made sure he rested several times to complete the trip. I was too important to them to not see me for another few more years. I could not believe my eyes! I got up to embrace my uncle’s wife. And she hugged, kissed, and knelt down so such that I can sit on her lap. She looked sick and weak. I am young, healthy, and weighed 155 lbs. This would be too much weight for her boney thighs. I wanted to resist sitting on her lap. I wanted to tell her, “Mom, I am a grown man now”. Of course, in her eyes, I am still the young boy lost 21 years ago. I am the one she thought she would not have a chance to see again. And more importantly, she was doing what is naturally mothers’ thing. It is what Akuc Makuei, my biological mother, would do were she alive. I will be always that newly born creature in my mother’s eyes. This treatment my not be unique to me and my family. But, the point is, all these were done to show how I have been missed and loved by my family. I truly belonged to all of them.

A Point of No Return

2008-09-26T06:54:00.000-07:00

I have lived with and among the Southern Sudanese and I continue to be fascinated by their yearning for an independent Southern Sudan. It is not independence by its very nature that amazes me; it is the quest for it. Independence for Southern Sudanese is the only uniting factor even with great differences in life, politics, and; in views on what shape the Southern Sudan country should take. But, I also understand that there are legitimates rifts within the populace that must never be ignored. These apertures are sometimes incorrectly reported in many works of journalism as deeply rooted in tribal differences. This region hosts the greatest ever ethnic diversity than one can name in the world. Sure, tribal division is prominent and is naturally expected, unless you are an extreme optimist, in places where tribal affiliations are social capital. To live a tribal life here is to live within the reality of Southern Sudan. But this is a reality that bothers me so much so many times. It makes me question the long term viability of the Southern union—the country of South Sudan. There is something fundamentally wrong with us—the Southern Sudanese that needs serious tackling, if we are to stay independent. A testament to these problems can be explained using the following examples. Currently, there has been ongoing disagreement within the Eastern Equatoria and Lake States. I recently read the divide between the governor and the State Legislative Assembly (SLA) of the State has deepened too big that the SLA is now suspended indefinitely. I heard of a rift among the state MPs and the governor of the Lake State—Sudantribune News September 25, 2008 reports that the honorables became unruly to the point of savagely beating each other inside the parliament. Besides, about few months back, there were reports of intertribal killings within Warrap State. Also, presence of tribal conflict can never be understood fully anywhere else then in Jonglei States. The rest of the States have their own problems which, if written about, would filled many more pages. I put all these challenges to my colleague, Levy, at the Volunteer for Economic Growth Alliance (VEGA) to know his views on the tribal problems plaguing the Southern Sudan and on the much anticipated referendum in 2011. He confidently told me “the separation is eminent”. “These rifts in the South are being fueled by the enemy” he continued. My colleague, Levy, trivialized these challenges as internal affairs, which would be solved once a complete independence is obtained. He illustrated the situation as this. What goes on in Southern Sudan is like a circumstance where a person is being chase and is running away from a lion. And on his way escaping for his deal life, he ran into a snake. When caught in such conditions, he would rather deal with snake a head of him then daring to go back to the lion that is chasing him. This characterizes southern Sudanese at the moment. They feel that the oppression by the northern Sudanese is far worst than the tribal divisions in the south. I am more and more convinced that Southern Sudan is a country in the waiting. Quest for independence, for Southern Sudanese, has reached a point of no return. Its fundamentals are so strong such that no forces of any kind will stop it from happening sometimes in 2011.

Walking with Heads Up

2008-09-24T08:20:00.000-07:00

I did not have enough time to spend in Juba before I left for Bor-Jonglei State. In fact, I was preoccupied by the prospects of reuniting with my family that I could not do any observations during that one day I was here in Juba. Now I am back and have had one good week in Juba. I can now claim a right to write about condition of Juba and its people. Juba is a capital city of the semi-autonomous Government of the Southern Sudan. Yes, I know that there is JIT supermarket where you can find western’s food that one craves—donuts, chocolate, and what have you. I also know that there is Da Vinci restaurant where fancy diner goers go to relax on the Nile River. In fact, I accidently went there and paid something like $30 for a dinner that was too salty to be eaten. And if you are a night-goer too, there are more than a dozen places to go to here in Juba. In fact, one of them is near our guest house. Fridays and Saturdays are no sleeping days here in our compound. None of our residents is spared of the noise! It feels sometimes like the music is being played inside our compound. We actually do joke that all we need on Friday and Saturday is a drinks’ bar and we would enjoy ourselves here without having to go out. All these, good or bad, I am told, came with the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) signed in 2005. With that came a population and now you can not miss a density of a once known as a ghost town. I would never claim to understand the feelings of the people I now see here. I only see that the Southern Sudanese own and run this town. I know that the flag of Southern Sudan sits on every license plate of any car registered here and, I also see it flying allover the government’s buildings. I see also men in uniform of all departments of the military, policy, and wildlife forces. Southern Sudanese are also drivers driving cars of all agencies here in Juba. I was in a car with my driver driving through the Juba town when he began talking to me about what has become of Juba town. “You know, Panther, Juba has changed completely”. Of course, I don’t have any personal witness to what had happened to this town since the signing of the agreement. But I knew he was not just willing to teach me about the development that has taken place in Juba—he had something bigger to tell me. He wanted to tell me that what I see, though dissatisfying, was not here 3 years ago prior to the peace agreement. I gathered from his facial expression that even the men and women that gathered in that overcrowded Konyo Konyo market have just been liberated and now have the liberty to work and provide for their families. He wanted to tell me that those kids in blue, green, red, and white uniform have just had the liberty to seek education. He also wanted to tell me there is something that is now called the Government of Southern Sudan and its legislative branch and purely comprised of the Southerners who are now making decisions for their fellow Southerners for the first time since Sudan’s independence in 1956. And more importantly, Mr. David, my driver, wanted to tell me that the Southern Sudanese have finally had the freedom to take matters in their own hands and now walk with their heads up.

Milking the Poor

2008-09-19T03:25:00.000-07:00

Scenes of communication towers sitting amidst traditional huts are never missed in Bor town area. It is such a stark contrast of things that should never go together in first place. I had an impression that things had improved tremendously when I began to receive calls in the States from Bor. I visualized the wired town with cables and what have you. I envisioned some modern buildings that go along with modern lifestyles that have sprung up in Southern Sudan in the last few years. And because people could afford to buy cell phones, I imagined a totally improved ways of living. Well, I couldn’t be more wrong! This is what I discovered happened when I arrived in Bor. It looked like the Multinational Corporations (MNCs) are moving in. Corporations had grown smarter to extent that one could describe it as greedier. They have anchored up to three tall communication towers around Bor. These towers send signals way deep to villages. Then they send phones to more kiosk-like retail shops where people can buy them. And when you buy a phone you have to buy simcard separately and twice as much. But that’s not all. You have to continue buying credits locally known as “airtime” in order for that phone to continue operating. Additionally, these phones need to be charge every so often. And this creates a boom in generator’s business. An owner of a cell phone goes to charge his/her phone on generator generated power. I suspected it must be very expensive to own a cell phone here. I believe a rational villager would realize this. But, as is well known in the field of economics “rational people don’t act rational”. When I went to the village I saw several people with cell phones hanged on thatched huts. I even made a comment that I later on thought didn’t sit well with my relatives. I wondered why development started with satellite towers sitting among the traditional huts. The other sharp contrast that I observed was the way people now consume bear and coca-cola drinks. It seems to me there is an invasive consumerism that comes with perceived status of being able to consume coca-cola or beer instead of locally brewed. People want to live a modern lifestyle so much that everyone likes drinking modern drinks: beer & coca-cola. Everywhere I went being either gatherings or just simple homes, there were crates and crates of either beer or cola drinks. To make matters worst, there seems to be great prevalence of drinking among the post-conflict population of the Southern Sudan. This comes with great human and financial costs. I just discovered that everything; food, construction materials, vehicles, drinks, and even, to some extent, skilled workers are imported from Eastern Africa. This makes things twice expensive. And talk about beer as a luxury thing? I came back to Juba and was given a work’s phone. Then I bought airtime for 20 Sudanese pounds equivalent to 10 US dollar. After that I made three short phone calls before an automated voice told me I had not “enough credit to make this [fourth] call”. This was the point where I confirmed my earlier instinct fears for this encroaching modern lifestyle in the villages not yet capable to copy with it effects. I realized I was being milked. Much worst, I now understand the calls that I watched my brother, cousin and so many others, made in Bor were extremely expensive. I now wonder whether this is ethical. Ethical or not, the reality is that the rich are milking the poor in this part of continent.

First Reunion

2008-09-17T03:27:00.000-07:00

I never imagined how it was going to be like, but I knew for sure I would be able to see my love ones for first time in 21 years! I arrived in Bor in the afternoon of September 3rd, 2008. There was great miscommunication regarding my time of arrival. My brother with a cousin came to Bor airstrip way earlier than actual time of arrival. But, I was not there so they went to Bor town. It cost them a fortune as they hired a car that went back empty, but wanted paid anyways. I think they paid something like 20 Sudanese pounds; equals to 10 US dollar. The other relative of mine, who works for ASCHOM Oil Company and drives the company’s car, came way too late to get me at the airstrip. The other relative who came at a right time arrived on a bicycle to pick me up. But there were two bags, myself and he, the cycler. And there were no commercial cars to take me from the Bor airstrip to Bor town. Fortunately, a friend I met on the plane had his agency picked him up so he offered me a ride. We were boarding at the Juba International Airport, when this friend detected that I wasn’t the usual traveler. He saw in me the expressions of one with serious business (something fundamentally profound) awaiting him in other end of the trip. This made to inquire if I were going “home?” I enthusiastically replied, “Yes!” “Bor is my home and this is my first visit since I left in 1987. I let him calculate how long it has been for me without seeing my love ones. I believe it was the difficult nature of this reality that obligated him to feel the need to help in any way he could. We drove on incredible bumpy roads into town where he instructed his driver to drop me off at my destination. My brother and the cousin who had come to the airstrip because they thought I would arrive in the morning instead of the afternoon now linger around in town. There was great anxiety and everyone that heard about me and had a cell phone kept calling each other to ask if I had finally arrived. So, as I was getting settle at the home of that relative who came to get me, my brother called. He was told I had arrived and waiting to see him. He couldn’t wait to hang up the phone! He and our cousin came running. It was so emotional meeting the two, but not as emotional as meeting the whole family the next day. They went home to convey the news while I spent the night in town in the home of my relative. On the next day, I got myself prepared as going to where my brothers and their wives live was so remote to extent that there is no clean water. I bought things to bring with me. I hired a commercial car that runs between Bor town and other nearby places. This car brought me to the residence of my relatives. Everybody was waiting by the roadside! One of my sisters (both of them are married) heard about my coming to the area and had come and was waiting with the rest. I got out and they all rushed toward me. Everyone looked completely different: I failed to recognize so many of them! As such, I broke down in tears! I always thought I knew them through my memory, but everyone’s look has changed. My sister and one brother look so sick! But the excitement on their side was too great. They all prayed and shed their tears as I was gathering myself from emotional breakdown. While they all thanked God for having kept me a live for all these years so they one day see me again, I kept wondering how God could allow this inhumane separation to happen to me, my family, and my country of birth in the first place. Why bother to make me be born into this lovely family, but not allow me to grow among them? Why make me a homeless even at times I couldn’t bear it? Were these not the people and the place you (God) intended for me, when you put me in my mother’s womb?

Bor in My Mind

2008-09-16T12:34:00.000-07:00

I couldn’t quite place in a right sense what Bor would look like when I get there. My flight time was nearing and the excitement rose to much higher level. My prospects of seeing home was becoming a reality. And when Joseph came to tell me I would be late for my flight, I replied “late!” Joseph is a resident coordinator here at VEGA-Sudan’s office. I was eating a very delicious lunch at times. But going home was irreplaceable. I hurriedly rushed back to my room to get my luggage (I later on discovered that I left my malaria’s medication behind in this process). My driver was waiting in the driveway. We loaded the luggage onto the car and pulled away from the gate to the bumpy road. We drove passed the airport. I began to wonder about where we were going. I was tempted to direct him, but I knew he had driven to the Juba’s airport a thousand times, if not a million times. At the same time, prospects of missing my flight were looming: I was convinced, more then ever, that I would be late for Bor’s flight. Apparently, we were going to check for my flight’s time (something Joseph already did). After confirming the flight time, we then drop back to the airport. I checked in at the desk placed next to the main door of the only modern looking building at the Juba International Airport. This turned out to be a charter plane and passengers are only allowed up to 30 lbs to bring on board. My luggage weighed twice as much. I though it works like the US airlines' policies. I offered to pay for whatever extra pounds. But the airport’s attendant yelled, “It’s not about paying. It’s about your own safety!” I didn’t know what to do after that. I contemplated between leaving behind either my bag for my wearing clothes or the gifts bag. But how would I explain to the people when I tell them I left their gifts because some airlines’ regulations prevented me from bringing them? It was not possible either to leave my clothing behind for almost two weeks. I finally gave in and offered to leave the gifts behind. But they gave in and let me go. One of these workers told me to sit in a waiting room. My flight won’t board for another 20 minutes. I got even more anxious as condition for having missed my plane loomed bigger. I got restless. I went to ask the other passengers who were sitting in the waiting area to see if they were going to Bor. The guy said “yes” and I was relieved of all the worries that were going through my mind. And in the next few minutes, we took off. The plane flew at a balance. It was not too low or too high such that we followed the Nile as it meanders northward. It looks absolutely gorgeous! I was convinced I would spot a small town along this route: the Bor Town. I began to spot what looked like cattle camps as we got closer to the Bor area. In fact, I was now flying in the air above the soil I was born on. In the next few minutes, our plane started to descend and landed on a red small strip. There was no air traffic control tower: Bor was at its very poor condition at best. The reality was shocking. But the most important thing in my mind was that I got back home in more than 20 years. No kidding! I said, “more than 20 years”.

My Identity Crisis

2008-09-02T02:42:00.000-07:00

It was about 12 pm local time when we approached the Juba International Airport. The plane landed on a small runway surrounded with grass. We accelerated and the plane made something like a U-turn and I felt like we were to take off again. I wondered what was about to happen! But I learned, in the end, that as the plane landed, it offshoots a little bit passing the area it was supposed to pull over. So we came back to that place and pulled over. We sprang out of the plane toward the airport security’s building. Even though this was supposed to be cold season in Sudan, it felt so hot! And as I walked toward the building, an airport security official recognized that I was a Sudanese and started talking to me in Juba Arabic. I politely told him I don’t know much but I knew just to say hello. So we exchanged few words with me mixing English with Arabic. He seemed far too understanding of my situation and was so happy that I was back anyways. He guided me to the building and left me in a line. There, there were several sheets of paper to login. Apparently, people login differently. There were sheets for foreigners and that of Sudanese. So when I approached the desk and handed in my passport to the desk’s attendant, he looked at it and said to me “are you not Sudanese?” With sense of agitation, I replied “why?” The guy just wanted to know. But there is something about identity that agitates me. It appeared to me like he was questioning my patriotism and sense of belonging. Sure I am now American national. But I will always be a Sudanese-American. This is the reason when we took off at Kenyatta International Airport and the pilot announced the flight time was one hour fifteen minutes, I anxiously stared the window in the air throughout the flight. I wanted to see at which point I cross the border and now sit back and relax in Sudanese air! It has been about twenty years since I left this country. But I don’t feel a bit of resentment to this land. I have a sense of anguish to those who made it impossible for me to grow up here where I belong! Yes, I belong here! Everything about me belongs here! So write me down in the sheet that you think is right for me. I won’t be offended however if you chose to log me in as a foreigner. After all, America is the country that can claim my legal human existence. I was never a citizen of any country—not even of my own place of birth for the most parts of my lifetime. And man! I proudly hold this passport covered with stars and stripes because this is now my country—so go ahead please, write me down as a foreigner—in fact write American!

Here we go!

2008-05-21T06:41:00.000-07:00

The first chapter began, and the rest is history. My friends always thought I would do well and contribute to the best of My-God-Given nature by doing community development (whatever that means) works. They thought I was tailor-made for the career! I thought about this over and over again. After finishing my high school, I decided to attend a training in community development (CD), just to prove them right, while in Kakuma refugees camp. This was one of many mini-workshops UN agencies offered to the refugees to hone their skills in different fields. After the CD's training, I took an agriculture and peace and coexistence trainings as well. But, the big part of this was taking this course in development. That got me to a position of deciding to teach literacy classes--part of community development! I got fully oriented to behaving messiah-like and always remember "to ask not what my [community] can do for me, but what I can do for my [community]". In this process, I never gotten used to thinking about how my own future career would pay me back. I adapted to new philosophy of contemplating on all means to bring about change on other people's lives. Incidently, there is no better place on earth to do this then in my country of birth, Sudan. Issues of underdevelopment are everyone's door steps. You can see evidence of disease pandemics, prevalence of extreme poverty, illiteracy, environment degradations, and the vast utility of unclean/unsanitized in any corners of Sudan. Now, I am at the verge of changing things for better or for worst. I just got a position with an organization with mission "to empower the disadvantage, increase economic opportunity, and sustain natural resources"! What could be any better! Right now, I am working on programs to bring about realization of this mission within the population of in Southern Sudan.