Friday 29 July 2011

A town within a town

Inside their compound was a whole different world, isolated from the rest of Juba. I had already had plenty of experience of the hotels and NGOs in Juba – but the UNMIS (United Nations Mission in Sudan) compound was different. Despite having many of the same features its sheer size and separation from the city made it seem removed in a way that I had not experienced before.

Take one step outside of the Quality Hotel and you are straight into the heart of Hai Cinema, you can walk across the street to a local cafe where young men congregate to play pool and watch Western TV in the evenings. Take a few steps down the road and you are at the local shops where the store owner I see every day speaks only “small” English. Just outside are several boda-bodas, anytime of day or night.

And just around the corner is the chapatti stand where I buy my lunch each day. An omelette wrapped in chapatti and cut up, known as a “rolex” costs just two Sudanese pounds – a great value meal in ordinarily expensive Juba. Sitting under a makeshift cover that provides some welcome shade, I eat off plastic stools that are improvised as tables. In this setting I am greeted by school children and catch snippets of conversations about local life. One time I listened with interest to the Ugandan boys complaining about the difficulty of getting a Sudanese girlfriend, blaming it on their poverty.

While this area is surrounded by NGOs and is undoubtedly shaped by that presence there is no obvious sense of being set apart from the rest of Juba. White faces are rare. In contrast UNMIS was a town of its own; a cosmopolitan town, with Europeans, Americans, Africans and Asians. The gate to the UNMIS compound is at the end of a long dirt road, and although it is close to the airport there is a feeling that it stands alone. It took me several minutes to walk to the main road and find a boda-boda after I left. Most of the UN wouldn’t make that walk. They venture out only in their marked cars with giant, almost comical, antenna that are used to track their location.

The compound itself is vast, like a college campus. With row upon row of small prefab units that house the UNMIS staff in Spartan fashion, with shared bathroom facilities. There are stores, a restaurant and bar on the compound. It felt like a military base from which excursions could be made into South Sudan – which I suppose is not far from what it was.

Any visitors to Juba live in a parallel world. Even the NGO staff who have lived here for years exist in a different world from most of the local people. And in any case, within a city groups of people live very separate lives, based on social status, geography and other demographics. I have no reason to believe the UN don’t engage with the people here. For most, their jobs take them out of the compound all of the time, and probably to see more of the country than I will while I am here. However, I couldn’t help but be struck by the physicality of UNMIS’ isolation, the sense of enclosure, like a little expatriate bubble nestled on the edge of Juba.

Tuesday 19 July 2011

War crimes

Soldiers came in the night and slit throats, the cathedral had been looted and people were in hiding. These were the reports we heard from Martin, a man who had fled from Kadugli, the capital of South Kordofan. Even as al-Bashir was greeted by polite applause in Juba, his government was carrying out what have been described as “especially egregious” atrocities just north of the border.

South Kordofan and the bitterly contested area of Abyei have significant cultural and historical ties to the South. Many in the region fought as part of the SPLA. Khartoum would like to see rebel elements extinguished and the people Arabized. The governor of the region is Ahmed Haroun, a war criminal wanted by the ICC (International Criminal Court) for crimes against humanity committed in Darfur.

Bombings, indiscriminate massacres and a campaign of terror have driven thousands into the mountains. Here they are isolated from any kind of help. The government in Khartoum refuses to recognise the displaced people and has hindered aid organisations from providing vital food and health care. Those with more resources may have succeeded in fleeing the area – Martin had made it to Juba and felt safe (he even said he was happy for his name to appear on the internet) – but he spoke of others still being hunted who it is not safe to identify.

Evidence of mass graves in the area has been found by the Satellite Sentinel Project – a project supported by George Clooney and Google that keeps a watchful eye on Sudan using satellites and corroborating evidence on the ground. Condemnations have been forthcoming from the international community; action, not so much.

Meanwhile in Juba, life after independence goes on. The new currency supposedly came out Monday, although I have yet to see any of it – the old pound is still in use at least for the next couple of months. A country code (+211) has come into effect. The UN has now admitted South Sudan as member number 193. Maps are even beginning to show the new border. The country is now well on its way to acquiring the trappings of an independent state. Building the nation’s economy and social structures may take a longer time, but contrary to the snide remarks about a new “failed state”, the future seems promising.

The Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA), which led to the birth of South Sudan, did not ignore the regions left behind. Abyei was to hold a separate referendum to decide whether to be part of the North or South - when and if this will happen is now uncertain. South Kordofan and the Blue Nile were to hold “popular consultations”, but now even this vague promise seems unlikely to be fulfilled.

With the South separate and independent the North will hope that the international community will shift its focus. Those in Sudan still at odds with the ruling elite in Khartoum will hope this doesn’t happen. But even as satellites watch on we seem unable to prevent the unfolding tragedy.

Thursday 14 July 2011

Basketball match

“That’s Luol Deng” said Samuel, pointing at a man sitting a couple of feet in front of me. We were sitting on plastic chairs in a school yard watching a national basketball game. It was surreal to think that I might be within arm’s reach of an NBA star, with a $71m contract.

But it was certainly possible. He was wearing a Bulls cap and NBA socks, surely that was proof enough! And there is no doubt that Deng has been in the country. So here we were surrounded by a huge crowd scrambling to peer over us. There were no stands – this was literally the basket ball court of a local school. The game had been scheduled for Monday, but when we had arrived at the new basketball stadium we found it under construction. We came back again the next day; a crane was still standing in the middle of the small, outdoor court.

I had given up trying to see the game, South Sudan’s first, against Uganda. It was just by chance that I heard the cheering of the crowd, saw the road packed with cars and discovered the match. I tried to get a glimpse of the players through the wall of tall Sudanese standing on chairs. “Defence, defence!” they chanted as I walked around looking for a gap.

After a while I worked my way to the front where I could get a decent view. The skill of the players lit up the humble facilities. It was a privilege to be there to witness it, no ticket required. Despite the 75-72 loss the flag of South Sudan was being waved proudly on the court moments after the game ended.

It was the second major sporting event for South Sudan. The first had been a soccer match at the new stadium. The match was against Kenya and had also resulted in defeat, 3-1. However, the South Sudanese won’t let anything dampen their spirits. There was no anger, no fighting, certainly nothing like the scenes in Canada not so long ago.

Soccer and basketball are both popular sports in South Sudan. The people here are especially suited to the latter, being amongst the tallest ethnic groups in the world. In 2012 South Sudan will be competing for the first time in the Olympic Games in London. It may seem of little significance in a place where trash piles up in the streets, but what you quickly find when you travel is that people are much alike wherever you go, poor or rich. In Juba they are just as passionate in supporting their favourite team (which I’m pleased to say is often Arsenal), or kicking around a ball in the street as anywhere else in the world.

Maybe the balls are a little more scuffed and the facilities more basic. But somehow that doesn’t seem to matter very much.

Sunday 10 July 2011

Independence day

There was nowhere I'd rather have been than riding in the back of a truck bouncing along an undulating Juba road. It was a little after one in the morning on the 9th of July and we were piled onto a pick-up, soaked and ecstatic. We were soaked because we’d just forced our way through a street party and the crowd had blessed us by throwing water on us. We were ecstatic because South Sudan had just become the world’s newest nation.

The roads were quieter than they had been at midnight but the main roads and roundabouts were still alive with honking cars, boda-bodas whizzing by waving flags and crowds of celebrating citizens. Even as we drove down the rough roads away from the main action we passed groups of revellers who ran up to slap our hands and shouted with us “Oyeee! South Sudan, oyeee!”

There was little sleeping done that night. The sounds of joy went on until early morning. By the time they had subdued I was waking up to a cold shower. I’d obtained a guest pass to the celebrations, but to get good seat we were heading there early. It was a good move. We arrived at eight o’clock when a crowd had already formed, but the seating reserved for guests was still quite empty.

We climbed up to the top row where we had a good view of the road, the podium and behind the scenes. It was the perfect spot, and enjoyed a breeze that kept us much cooler than the other spectators. It was very welcome on such a hot day. Every so often we’d see stretchers carrying someone away who had collapsed from the heat – a number of them soldiers.

But despite the heat, the atmosphere was incredible. Throughout the morning cars would rush up the road, dispensing dignitaries and important figures that had come to see the Independence of South Sudan. Sometimes it would be a motorbike or police car with flashing lights and siren followed by a powerful looking vehicle. Other times it was a whole fleet of cars. The South Africans even brought two trucks full of armed soldiers.

It was after mid-day when Salva Kiir arrived (wearing his trademark black cowboy hat) and the formalities began. The National Anthem of Sudan was sung for the last time. There was complete jubilation as the flags rose - one to stand over the nation, representing freedom and independence, the other alongside that of the United States in the long row of national flags to represent South Sudan joining the international community as the 193rd member of the United Nations. With much greater gusto the new National Anthem was sung by the people.

It was astonishing to see the flag rising and the crowd in the place where just a few weeks earlier, when I had arrived, there stood a row of shops. I had driven past here a few times already. The first time I came the shops were being torn down, the next time they were completely gone, only rubble remained. Now the site was transformed. And this wasn’t the only change that had been pushed through in the run up to Independence.

For the first time a week earlier a plane landed at Juba in the dark. The guests coming in on Saturday were interviewed in the new Terminal building. And those I spoke to who had arrived earlier that week told me that they hadn’t had to fight for their baggage being thrown in through a window like I had less than a month earlier. They had collected it from tables in something that could almost be called an orderly manner.

The preparations had also included great efforts to ensure that people would know their new National Anthem. The night before, we had heard it repeatedly on SSTV while we waited for the news. School children had been practicing it and the words were being handed around or copied by people so that they would have them memorized for the day.

It was late afternoon before the ceremony was finally done. We’d had nothing to eat and were hot, hungry and tired. But despite that, no-one could have been in better spirits. Later that evening I took another drive around the town. There were less street parties than the night before, the celebrations mostly confined to the indoors. We pulled up and inspected a disco where young people were celebrating independence in the same way they do anywhere, by drinking, dancing and listening to music.

On the way home we passed by the lit up fountain. It was a beautiful thing, and a great symbol of a new Juba. While the luxury of the fountain might seem frivolous, even offensive, when the city still lacked a proper water system, it was good for Juba to have something attractive and wonderful. The city has a long way ahead, and it seemed to me that this fountain was a grand sign of the aspirations and hopes of a people whose dedication and resolve is unquestionable.

Even as the excitement and happiness still reverberates around Juba, the foreign media talk of the struggle ahead and the possibility of South Sudan become a “failed state”. An article in the LA Times implied the challenges had been set aside for the celebration (“ignored” even). But this wasn’t the case. Speakers talk of the work to be done and the challenges ahead. But rather than speak of them with concern and scepticism, as the foreign press does, they speak with the spirit of optimism and determination.

The people aren’t intimidated by the future, they know that they have achieved great things in winning their freedom, and they want nothing more than to push onwards to establish their place not just as a sovereign state, but as a great nation.

Tuesday 5 July 2011

Lost boys

“I was lighter then,” David laughed. Light enough, fortunately, to be thrown away from the landmine he’d just stepped on. If he’d landed closer things might have been different. His story was extraordinary.

A child soldier at 14 the injuries he’d suffered from the landmine meant he ended up in Uganda. After finishing his secondary education he moved to the Netherlands – alone, knowing no Dutch – at age 17. Six years later he had achieved citizenship and proficiency in the language and had just moved to London.

It was hard to imagine David as a child soldier. He seemed mild mannered, friendly and gentle. He had no obvious sign of having been injured, not even a noticeable limp. We bonded over our shared support of Arsenal and the Chicago Bulls, talking about the player Loul Deng, another South Sudanese boy who had travelled to the West. If David hadn’t told me I never would have imagined he’d spent six months as a teenager fighting in the civil war.

Another guy I met, the same age, had just returned from America. He’d lived there for ten years, graduated from University and held a good job. He spoke with a distinctive accent and was almost as out of place in Juba as I was. However, he had chosen to return to South Sudan in order to make use of the education and skills he had acquired in the US and assist in the rebuilding of his country.

We spoke about the Sudanese Diaspora in the United States. I have heard about the large community in Omaha, Nebraska (and met one person who spoke of a relative in Lincoln, NE) but there are many more spread out across the country. One person I spoke to said he had been to school in North Dakota, the place came up again in another discussion, it was far from the first place I would have expected to find Sudanese refugees. “When there is a wedding or other event people will come from all across the nation,” he told me, when I asked about the unity of the diaspora population.

Many of those who ended up in the United States and Europe are young men, referred to sometimes as Lost Boys of Sudan. In 2001 a program was begun by the United States and the UN to resettle around 3800 boys across at least 38 cities in the United States. Many refugees of course remained in bordering countries – Uganda, Kenya and Ethiopia. Those who made it to Europe and America, however, have often been lucky enough to have had a higher education.

“Many came back after the peace agreement,” I was told over a lunch reception. “They expected everything to be ready to go,” the man continued. Many had spent much of their lives in the developed world, they found that when they returned the pace of development was slow, and the government seemed unprepared to take advantage of their skills and education. Apparently many returned to the States after a short while. The different attitudes and expectations of the diaspora community and the South Sudanese in Juba may be a barrier to their return. Undoubtedly many will also find that they have fulfilling lives in their new homes and will have little desire to return.

But for those who do, there is a great deal that they can offer their country. The education, connections and cultural experience they possess could be one of the country’s most valuable assets. Of course, those who remain in the US or Europe also provide a valuable link for the country to the Western world. And whether they have their homes in North Dakota or Central Equatoria, I am sure that all will be united in spirit on the 9th of July to celebrate their Independence.

Monday 4 July 2011

Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness

More than two hundred years ago, on this day, the United States of America declared its Independence. In 5 days time South Sudan will celebrate Independence for the first time. The world has changed a great deal since 1776, but the ideals enshrined in the Declaration of Independence ring as true today as they did then. That all men are created equal, endowed with the right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

The desires of the eighteenth century colonists were not all that different from those of modern day Sudanese. Like the colonists many did not initially look for a complete separation and independence. Rather they wanted to address the grievances they had with their current situation. For the South Sudanese one of these concerns was religious and cultural freedom.

The Arab controlled government of Khartoum looked to replace the native culture and languages with Arabic, as well as enforce Sharia law across the country. So there was a definite struggle for liberty – freedom to retain culture and religion.

Another concern was equality. While Khartoum enjoyed many of the advantages of a developed city the displaced that lived in slums on its periphery lived in abject poverty. In the South the lack of development and infrastructure are all too evident. Despite the majority of oil wealth coming from this part of the country very little of that money went into improving the lives of the people who live here.

The pursuit of happiness is undoubtedly tied in to the lack of freedoms and equality for many Sudanese. As independence approaches there is a definite sense of hope in the air. People look to the opportunities that exist, and leaders in the church and government call for peace and unity to prevail, that the important work of development might not be obstructed.

Even the right to life has been an important part of the struggle for independence. When famines hit the land and when the displaced were forced into camps the government both neglected their most basic needs and hindered the work of international aid organisations.

While the details of South Sudanese independence and American independence differ greatly, there are at the heart the same fundamental values. This is reflected in South Sudan’s new National Anthem, which could easily be a patriotic American hymn:

Oh God,
We Praise and glorify you,
For your grace on South Sudan,
Land of great abundance,
Uphold us in peace and harmony

Oh Motherland,
We rise raising flag with the guiding star,
And sing songs of freedom with joy,
For Justice, Liberty and Prosperity,
Shall forevermore reign

Oh Great Patriots,
Let us stand up in silence and respect,
Saluting our Martyrs whose blood,
Cemented our National foundation,
We vow to protect our Nation

Oh God Bless South Sudan!

Today Americans remember their history and celebrate the values of equality, liberty, life, opportunity, democracy and everything else that is central to them. I hope that as they do so they think of South Sudan, embarking on its journey to create a country according to those same values. And also that they think of the many places in the world where the struggle still goes on to see those values realised.

Sunday 3 July 2011

Tying the knot

A loud, high pitched ululating erupted from the crowd as the bride walked down the aisle. The cathedral was cheerfully decorated with lacy artificial flowers sprinkled with glitter. The place was packed with people, elegantly dressed bridesmaids and close family, then a multitude of others, dressed brightly and smartly, but in a more casual way.

The wedding did not differ much from what I was used to. It was held at the Episcopal Cathedral, so the order of service was much like that at my sister’s wedding. There was a lot of ululating throughout, bouncing Arabic praise songs and a festive air. The whole affair was a little more informal, and a little less grand than the weddings I was used to. There was no meal at the reception except for small snack boxes. The advantage of this was that the invitations had been given out a lot more freely.

I had never met the couple before, so I was quite surprised when I received the beautiful card inviting me to their wedding (about four days before the event). I was also a little surprised when I turned up a few minutes before the stated starting time to find myself practically alone in the Cathedral. “I thought the wedding starts at 2.30,” I said, as I was lead to a pew that seemed embarrassingly close to the front for someone so tenuously connected to the wedding couple. There was a laugh and a mention of “local time”. In Juba time is a lot more malleable; it was four o’clock before the service was underway.

While any visitor from the UK or US would have found the wedding remarkably familiar, the marriage practices of the South Sudanese can sometimes be more alien. I thought I’d heard incorrectly when a guy told me he had over 60 brothers and sisters. “My father has eighteen wives,” he explained. He went on to tell me that his father also had between three and four hundred cattle – he’d just received 72 as a gift from a man to marry one of his daughters.

The practice of funerals can also be a little different. One day we saw a great line of cars and trucks, maybe over a hundred. In some of them were people shaking rattles. It was a funeral procession for an important government minister who had recently died in India. Wakes are held for the dead and can carry on throughout the night – on one occasion close to my room I could hear singing and music from late at night until the dawn. When I walked past another of these wakes I saw a large number of chairs arranged around beneath erected shelters. People sat around and in the middle I saw a portrait of the deceased hanging.

In their celebrations and their remembrance there seemed a great deal of spirit and energy. Such occasions can be marked in different ways around the world – a small intimate gathering; a grand, solemn and sacred affair or, as in Juba, a very public, unreserved and colourful outpouring. Each is beautiful in its own way.

Tuesday 28 June 2011

Getting around in Juba

I held on tight as the motorbike bounced along the dirt road, it was clear the driver didn’t know where he was going. My destination wasn’t on any of the bus routes so I was taking Juba’s other form of transport, the boda-boda. Supposedly boda-bodas originate from the Kenya-Uganda border where they carried passengers across shouting “border, border”. These originals were bicycles made to carry a passenger on the back, a motorised version quickly appeared and it’s these that have become Juba’s own form of taxi service.

After a couple of stops for the driver to ask for directions I reached the Tong Ping Business Centre and saw the sign I was looking for. The trip cost me ten Sudanese pounds ($3) – I should have agreed a price before hand, I did this on the way back and only paid seven. My final destination was another couple of hundred yards away, but I was relieved to have found the place at all.

I walked up to the gate and knocked. Every compound has security guards and a gate, often locked even during the day. I was let in by the uniformed guard and asked to sign a guest book. Security is an important industry here. There are large advertisements for security providers displayed prominently in busy places, although they don’t quite match the aggressive advertising of the cell phone companies. Some hotels promote themselves by naming the professional security company they use. For veterans it can provide a good employment opportunity, but it isn’t without its risks. The other day we heard that the local school was broken into, the security guard was struck in the head – he was lucky to have survived the attack. After my short meeting another guard helped me find a boda-boda to take me home.

The return trip took a route along main roads. It was less bumpy but navigating the fast moving traffic of the paved streets made the journey just as much of an experience. Traffic here can be hazardous. I’ve yet to see an accident, but I would be surprised if they aren’t quite common. Crossing the street is enough of a danger. There are no street lights or designated crossings that I’m aware of. Along the paved roads is an almost constant stream of traffic. Most cars are large vehicles, four by fours that are able to get around Juba’s predominantly dirt roads. There are a number of smaller cars, but after a heavy rain these are often limited in where they can go. Motorbikes abound. There are dozens of them and they weave in and out of traffic. I hardly notice the constant honking anymore.

And then of course there are the buses. These white minivans pack in a dozen passengers or more and on any main street you’d hardly have to wait a minute to see one. Finding one that isn’t full and is going where you want might take a little longer, but I’ve never had a long wait. At one pound a trip the bus is a lot cheaper than the boda-boda or a private car (the only car hire price I’ve seen was $100 a day with driver).

Getting around in Juba isn’t always easy for a visitor, but the transport systems exist. It’s all a matter of knowing how to use them.

Sunday 26 June 2011

38 years of conflict

The Sudan gained independence from Britain in 1956. It spent 38 of the next 50 years embroiled in civil war. The history of conflict in the Sudan is complicated and descriptions have often simplified or distorted the reality of the situation. However, the simplest description of the conflict requires only one word: tragic.

How many have been killed between 1956 and 2011 may never be known. Estimates for the First and Second Sudanese Civil Wars (1955-1972 and 1983-2005 respectively) are over two million when war-related famine and disease are included. This is some of the worst loss of life from conflict since the Second World War. But the full devastation is not told by simple casualties. In addition to those killed, millions have been displaced, forced from their homes and land, their lives shattered. And there is also the unquantifiable tragedy of the wasted potential of a fertile land and the complete prevention of any kind of economic or social development in so many places. There is no-one in South Sudan who hasn’t been affected by the conflict.

One man I spoke to had fought in the first Civil War. He spoke of his village being bombed. A younger man tells me he left his home and grew up in a refugee camp in Kenya – his brother was killed in the war. Others talk of fathers and relatives who fought.

One night I am told of a man who was arrested and killed after receiving a letter from his brother in Uganda. His brother wrote asking how he was coping, having heard of the famine conditions in Sudan at the time. The content of the letter was deemed as evidence that too much information had been communicated outside the country.

Another story was told of a woman lining up for food with her infant child on her back. She waited in the crowd being pushed and shoved for hours until she finally got some food. When she reached for the child she found it was dead, crushed by the desperation of the crowd trying to get food.

The suffering inflicted on the Sudanese people from famine and displacement was exacerbated by an antagonistic government that repeatedly prevented international assistance from reaching those in need. In 2009 the International Criminal Court issued an arrest warrant for President Omar al-Bashir, the first time a sitting head of state had been indicted by the court. In 2010 a second warrant was issued including charges of genocide.

I sat around one night with a group of young men born at the beginning of the 1980s. For them they had known conflict almost their entire lives. “In Europe when young people sit around they talk of other things, but here we talk about politics” said one of them to me. For us, so often, the events of the news are dramatic but far away and politics is an academic diversion more than a pressing reality. For these men politics and conflict had directly informed their whole lives; to be a passive spectator wasn’t an option. Yet they were not fatalistic, they spoke hopefully and proudly of their country and its future and seemed to have a clear sense that they had a role to play.

Everyone here has been touched by the conflict on some personal level. Even as South Sudan prepares for Independence fighting has reignited in the border areas and the future of Darfur seems uncertain. For some in Juba the peace feels like a precarious one. And for some in other parts of the country there is no peace at all.

Thursday 23 June 2011

Madness at the market

“Maybe he is possessed by a devil!” said Emmanuel. I was sitting at the back of a bus with him and Hanan, while outside, a fierce young man was insisting he wouldn’t let it move until I got off. The people at Custom Market reacted to the drama just like any other crowd: women chattered urgently in Arabic, motioning that he must be crazy, and men stepped in dutifully to bring the situation under control.

Custom Market is not by nature a peaceful place, consisting of dozens of small stalls and pedlars loudly pushing fruit, beans, jewellery and other goods alongside a great crowd of ‘buses’. But it is a place of trade and lively fraternising – of human co-operation, not conflict.

We were there to switch to buses on our way to a group meeting. The place appears to be the city’s bus station. There were scores of vehicles, maybe as many as one hundred, covering a wide area. How it is possible to locate the correct one, I have no idea. The buses in Juba are almost universally small white minivans which pack in about a dozen passengers and drop and pick up flexibly along their route. The conductor leans out the window shouting where the bus is going, and this seems to be the only way of identifying which bus to catch. If you want to stop somewhere you click (which the conductor also does to collect money). I haven’t even attempted to use the buses alone yet.

As we were standing for a moment in the market I felt my water bottle yanked from my hand. I looked around to see a severe looking man who seemed to be around my age. He was wearing a red t-shirt and smoking a cigarette. I had hardly had time to react before he poured the contents of the bottle over my head.

Instantly there was a commotion as Emmanuel cried out. Those nearby stepped in to intervene asking what was going on. Hanan and Emmanuel insisted I had done nothing. I asked what was going on and Emmanuel said the man had mental issues. There were enough people to easily guard me, but as Hanan led me away the red shirted youth watched and followed, gesturing aggressively. I wasn’t able to walk away, but it was the middle of the day and the market was full of people who blocked him from getting to me. “Here, come” said Hanan, leading me by the hand into the crowd of buses. We climbed into one and moved quickly to the back seat.

I thought maybe we’d lost him, but then we saw him peer into the bus. He walked up to the back of the bus and swung a punch at my head. I was at the full extent of his reach and Hanan shielded me with her hand, so the blow landed only lightly on my forehead. Once again a commotion broke out and he retreated from the bus. There was a mix of concern, shock and gossip in the voices chattering hurriedly in Arabic. Clearly the locals were just as taken aback as I had been.

I am told there are no facilities to deal with the mentally ill in Juba. Several times one of my hosts has explained the behaviour of someone on the street as being the result of a mental disorder or drunkenness. On my first visit to the bank a drunken soldier interrupted usual business demanding that he had money he was unable to withdraw. When the bank told him his account was empty and he had withdrawn his last month’s pay Reverend Moses handed him a few pounds and told him to use it for transport to go and take it up with his commanding officer.

Even in Chicago or London the sight of a destitute man muttering to himself is not unusual, and for all the conflict, pollutants and poverty that the residents of Juba have been subjected to it is perhaps surprising that the mentally ill are not more prevalent. However, the lack of government capability to care for those who are disturbed or abusing substances, and the uncertainty of policing, makes their presence, like the stray dogs that roam the city, somewhat disconcerting.

The problems are real, but the spirit and unity of the great majority of the people often overcomes them - despite the demands of one madman the bus was leaving and there nothing he could do except laugh as the crowd took him away.

Tuesday 21 June 2011

The bare necessities

I stared up hopelessly at the shower head trying to will the water to come out, but there was none. After a long hot day there is nothing better than getting home and cooling off in the shower, but on this occasion I was going to have to wait.

It was a few hours later after supper that I saw a small vehicle with a large tank. These water trucks provide water around the city and I have seen a few since I have been here, just today I saw a similar one for sewage. The provision of water in this way not only has the problem of water outages, but also raises the cost of water supply. The cost of supplying water to the periphery areas of the city may be greater still, which is of special concern as this is where the poorest and most vulnerable tend to be settled.

In a similar way electricity here is produced by diesel generators which can be expensive to maintain and run, especially with the high cost of fuel. I have frequently found myself groping around for my torch when the power has gone out or struggling to sleep because there is no power for the fan.

People, who have travelled to parts of the developing world, or the younger industrial countries, may be used to cheaper prices than are found in Europe or North America. In Juba, however, the cost of living can often be quite expensive. The lack of a developed domestic economy is one of the reasons for this. Without the infrastructure of a proper power grid or water supply these basic utilities become much more difficult to acquire. But in addition food, fuel, construction materials and capital goods are for the most part all imported from Uganda or other bordering countries (the roads to Uganda are the best so most goods come this way).

Not everything is expensive. Bottled water can be bought for the equivalent of 20 pence (30 cents) and a basic meal can be bought fairly cheaply. But at one restaurant we visited the food prices were similar to those in the United States or England. Accommodation is also costly. While I am looking for somewhere cheaper than my current room ($75 a night), this is already a low price for somewhere that provides security, water and a fan. Most hotels are $100 a night or more.

There is, therefore, some urgency for South Sudan to be able to build up its domestic industry and agriculture base in order to supply basic goods. Until this happens a decent standard of living will be out of reach for a large part of the population. On a recent trip into town I saw a number of shops selling electronic goods – cameras, stereos and computer equipment. Some of these shops seemed well kept and had new, attractive, furnishings. With peace and independence many of the comforts and luxuries of modern living have penetrated into Juba. But these are costly imports, available only to the small new elite of businessmen and foreigners. For the majority of the population there is hardship enough in just obtaining water, food and power.

Sunday 19 June 2011

Juba - a city under construction

As I came in to land at Juba airport I could see mud huts, not more than a hundred yards from the runway. I am told that the new international terminal at Juba airport will be complete in a year. The construction work is unavoidable (literally) as we walk through an area of building work to get to the car on my most recent visit to the airport to get my visa signed and pick up a group from South Africa.

What the new terminal will be like I don’t know – but I imagine it will be something quite modern, in contrast with the existing arrivals area. This is nothing but a large room. Soldiers are very evident around the place (some with assault rifles), but there are no real barriers and there is no division between immigration and baggage collection. The latter is, in fact, just the area immediately in front of one of the windows where luggage is passed in from a tractor and trailer that brings it from the plane. The ensuing scrabbling to claim bags makes me think much more fondly of the orderly lines at Heathrow. The departures room next door is not much different. It is larger and with a security check at the door where bags are put through an x-ray machine – but this is significantly less rigorous than, for example, the security check to go up the Sears Tower, let alone the security that I am used to at O’Hare or Heathrow.

In many ways the Airport represents the city in microcosm. While conditions are very basic the evidence of construction is all around. At the ECS (Episcopal Church of Sudan) office that I have been going to each day we are in amongst the work; mud, sand and materials are scattered all over the compound, and a large pile of dirt sits just a few meters from the door. Across the road a multi-storey building is being erected. I am told that the workers on that building are Sudanese, but the ones working in our compound are Ethiopian. The construction trade seems to be healthy in Juba, and despite a huge growth in population over the last 6 years there seems to be jobs enough to attract outsiders.

In 2005 the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) was signed, ending the Second Sudanese Civil War – one of Africa’s longest running conflicts at 22 years. From speaking with local people it is clear the impact that peace has brought to the growth of Juba. I am told that in 2005 if you stood by the main road in Juba you would go three hours without seeing a car. By 2006, when some of the main roads began to be paved, there would be vehicles as frequent as every half hour. Now in 2011 I sometimes struggle to find a gap in the traffic in order to cross the street. Population growth has seen a similar remarkable boom since 2005. Estimates of the population in 2005 and 2006 are around 250,000. Now I am told that there are probably a million or more inhabitants of the city. This represents an annual growth of the city population by 30% or more. In comparison, Raleigh, North Carolina, one of America’s fastest growing large cities, had an annual growth rate of a little under 4% per annum between the 2000 and 2010 census (growing from 276,000 to 404,000).

As may be the case for much of Africa the main investors in South Sudan are Asians: Indians, Chinese, Malaysians, Japanese and others. I hear from one person that when someone goes out and spends ten pounds in Juba, two pounds will probably go to the Tata Group (the largest private corporate group in India). Many of these investors, however, are more interested in the oil fields that are far to the north of Juba.

My role here in facilitating investment from the UK in agriculture is somewhat different from many other international arrivals. With a large market for food in Juba and fertile land nearby there is certainly a need for agricultural development. At present a great deal of Juba’s food, as well as other goods, are imported from neighbouring countries. This is a consequence of the brutal civil war that has taken two million lives, stalled development and displaced a majority of South Sudan’s population, often repeatedly. Recently there has been renewed conflict over the disputed region of Abyei and claims of ethnic cleansing in the South Kordofan (north of the South Sudan border, but with many people culturally connected to the south). However, if independence can bring a lasting peace to South Sudan, there seems the promise of great things for Juba.

On the plane ride from Heathrow I was impressed by the quality of Kenya Airways, which lives up to its slogan – “The pride of Africa”. On the short trip from Nairobi to Juba I read a magazine on board that has advertisements for new villas being developed along Kenya’s coastline. They look modern and comfortable. Kenya (and in particular Nairobi) is seen as the region’s financial, communications and transport hub and is the largest economy in East and Central Africa. Hundreds of thousands of tourists visit Kenya every year bringing in hundreds of millions of dollars. Although growth has been mediocre, there has been average growth since 2000 of 3-4% and the country may now be on the cusp of greater expansion of 5-6% over the next few years.

I have great hope that with stability and self determination the people of South Sudan will be able to attract the same kind of investment, tourism and development that Kenya has and maybe even surpass it in rates of economic growth. Perhaps in a few years I will come to visit a Juba that looks quite different from the one I am in today.