Here's the thing...

Today there will be ‘demonstrations’ in Nyala, Khartoum, probably all over Darfur. Demonstrations are a nice way of saying, ‘riots’. Flag-burning, car-burning, rock-throwing, general anarchy in the streets. At least we knew about it in advance. It’s the spontaneous ‘demonstrations’ that are worrying. So, we’re under lock down. No one allowed out of their compounds from 7am until further notice. Flights are cancelled. Travel forbidden. Offices closed. The thing that no one tells you is how much preparation and coordination a good lock down will take. What if we’re not stuck inside for four hours but for four days? How much food and water do we need for that sort of thing? And, even if it is for four hours what, exactly, are we going to eat for lunch? Not matters of life and death, per se, but important nonetheless. Well, in case you ever find yourself in the same situation, let me tell you what I recommend purchasing: 10 snickers bars, 5 cans of Pringles, 10 cans of tuna fish, 10 instan

Meet Francois. In this picture, he’s being a little bit camera shy; hiding in the corner between the door and the wall. He moved in while I was gone and took up residence in the corner of my room between the mattress and the wall. He must have thought it was a rather nice place – quiet and dark with no one bothering him and asking all sorts of questions like, ‘who are you?’ and ‘what are you doing here?’. And then I come home and burst in. Seeing that my mosquito net is covered with dead bugs and my mattress soaked by the many recent rainstorms I go about making lots of noise, taking the net down, moving the mattress and, suddenly, there he is. Trying to hide; completely taken aback by all the light and noise. Although he gave me a start we became quick friends. He didn’t try to hide or run off - just kind of sleepily and warily eyed me as I stood there and eyed him. I’d like to say that we had a moment, Francois and I. But then, I came back to my senses and took to eyeing all the hedg

If you haven't seen, Lord of War , yet you need to. It has crept into my top five favorite (yes, Lizzy, favorite may be spelled without the 'u'!!) movies of all time. Not only because, poignantly - for me anyway, the last scene is them rolling into Sudan. It is also well written, beautifully shot, engaging, compelling and, in my opinion, true. Read more about it: http://www.lordofwarthemovie.com/

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/americas/5264566.stm

As part of my civic duty, I would like to use this public space to make all Americans aware that the British have a tendency toward preciousness about the English language. (Of course, anyone who has spent any time at all with the British and have experienced their charming, if not patronizing, pedantic fondness for the English language, already know this.) I digress. The point here is that I have, at some point on this blog, used the word 'drug' as the past tense of 'drag' which is, apparently, a serious offense to all British sensibilites of the language over which they - quaintly - feel ownership. Therefore, I would like to clarify the following... The past tense of the verb 'to drag' is, in fact, 'dragged'. Unless, according to some very knowledgeable people on the internet, you are, "trying to render dialectical speech to convey a sense of down-home rusticity", or, according to Random House use the "nonstandard" past tense, or, a

1. Home office lackeys at immigration who have perfected being horrendously rude and humourous at the same time. 2. Ample amounts of the four food groups: wine, cheese, bacon, chocolate. 3. After banging on for several hours about the evils of Darfur my friends who offer a cup of tea as the genuine remedy. 4. Transport that might not run on time but still gets you where you need to go. 5. Marks and Spencers. 6. The fact that it's August and it's grey and rainy. 7. Internet that works all the time...seriously...all the time. Can you imagine? 8. Tony Blair. 9. The telephone - which I hear the British think they invented - that also works...well, all the time! 10. The 16 hour, BBC version of Pride and Prejudice that I intend to spend 16 hours watching before going out to the pub for a beer and some greasy fish and chips, doused in vinegar and dipped in ketchup. Mmmm...

It is early on a Wednesday morning and we are going to El Fadous. After the events of the previous week, someone with enough foresight (that I’ll never admit to the wisdom of) decided that it might be good for me to get out of the office. And so, in the early morning haze, I am packing water, and toilet paper, and a couple of snacks into a quick run bag while the drivers stand around chattering about the latest market gossip and checking tire pressure and fuel levels. At 9am we are out of the compound and by 9:30 we are out of the town – driving through vigourously guarded SLA territory on a road that is little more than a sand track through ankle-deep shrub that stretches off the end of the earth in every direction as far as you can see. South Darfur is green, at the moment, golf-course green from all the pounding rain of the wet season. We drive through Dinka villages populated by those who fled one civil war right into the next one. We drive past farmers out planting their fields wi

When you watch the news about Darfur the conflict generally gets boiled down to being between a bunch of Arab nomads who, backed by the government, have mounted a genocide against a bunch of African farmers. But this oversimplification is unhelpful . Let me tell you a story – pure fiction – but one that might better help explain. There was a tribe that lived in this rural area – let’s call them the Red Sox. They are poor, Muslim, and farmers. Right next to them live a tribe – let’s call them the Yankees - that is also poor, Muslim, and farmers. They hate each other. From time immemorial they launch raids on each others small plots, villages and flocks. The children of both groups die from preventable diseases, don’t have enough food, inadequate health care, and little clean water. Simple enough so far? Every winter a bunch of different nomadic tribes (say…the whole American League) show up on the scene, passing through with their herds, both trampling and eating crops but also bringin