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Showing posts from July, 2006
I’ve started several times to try to describe the past few days but the words don’t come – or rather, too many words come – and so I give up and try to sleep instead. It’s been something of a blur – well, not really, more like a flood of incredibly lucid events interspersed with a thousand forgettable things that have to be done. But it is these events, or instances, that keep me awake at night wrapping and rewrapping a rosary around my hand. Trying to forget. But it is impossible to forget. Like a helicopter ride on Saturday. It was me, a paramedic, the South African pilots, a man that had nearly been beaten to death the day before, and his mother. She was blind in one eye and stared out the window with tears dripping off her chin. I had my IPOD on under the headset. Berber’s Addagio for Strings was playing – over and over – and there is a point in the music where all that is heard is a single violin stretching a note out so perfect and beautiful that it alone could break your heart.

Bad Day

I’ve decided to redefine my definition of a bad day. Two vehicles, four staff went to an IDP camp to do public health clubs. They go nearly everyday. However, there’s a rumor that NGOs are trying to poison children. So, the IDPs torched the vehicles, killed one driver, beat the other so badly that he’s hospitalized, and injured the other two. And if that wasn’t enough to qualify as a bad day, about 15 angry men – the family of the dead man and not very happy - later showed up at my door. UNDSS sent a patrol, GoS sent a patrol. It was just a tense, sad, and generally exhausting day.

A photo essay on the occasion of my birthday

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Yesterday was my birthday. It also happened to be the birthday of one of the only other expats with whom I work. In light of this, the President decided to visit Nyala and declared it a holiday. We were flattered, of course, no one has ever declared a holiday for us but then was a bit put out when he didn’t even have the courtesy to drop by. When he declared it a national holiday he added the caveat that if NGO’s determined to continue working then they would be considered in direct defiance to his orders. (That seemed a little odd to me considering that humanitarian organizations are feeding people, providing medical care, education, protection, etc. but now is not the time to quibble). So,finding myself with a day off I decided to chronicle all of the lovely events that made up the day and you’ll find those below: A card from Fernandez... I received a lovely Sudanese purse from Ashley... Also a box made out of WFP food tins so my books don't get dusty... My new laptop arrived fro

Cont...

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The President even sent some gunships... Then to out to dinner... Back to the house for specially imported carrot cake...mmmm.... All in all, a great day!!

World Cup

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So, Italy won the World Cup. This made me very happy. It made me very happy because I was supporting them (at the time) and because they beat France. It takes very little to make me happy these days. Unfortunately, they won on penalties which means that the game drug on and on far past our organization’s curfew, the UN curfew, and even the town curfew. This was bad. However, the situation was compounded by the fact that we didn’t have a car and that it rained – and I’m talking bucket-drenching downpour, not your normal rain – for about two hours during the game. It didn’t bother me that the room we were sitting in was slowly flooding or that there was a constant drip on the television. What was slightly alarming, however, was hiking home that night, after curfew, through calf-deep sewage water that clogged the streets. Seriously, there are some things you can live your whole life without doing and walking through sewage at midnight in the middle of Africa hoping not to get shot is one

A call for advice...

So…if you leave a book on the floor and then the room floods and then it dries out but the book starts to get a funny black mold growing inside the front cover, and then you leave it on the floor again and the room floods and then it dries out but the mold keeps spreading and then you leave it on the floor again and the room floods and the mold seems to be trying to take over the front cover what do you do about it? The mold, I mean, not the obvious fact that I have a drainage issue and am a slow learner.

This song reminded me of Darfur at the moment

3000 miles Tracy Chapman “Good girls walk fast in groups of three Fast girls walk slow on side streets Sometimes the girls who walk alone Aren’t found for days or weeks On the busy boulevards Bad boys call you names and cruise you hard Bullies laugh and grin and beat Your soft skin against the cold concrete … Knock you down, make you bleed Make you cry and make you think I’ll die here soon if I don’t leave If I don’t leave, if I don’t leave This patch of sky and native ground Take turns to push and pull you down Forget trying to live and be happy I’ll take safe and terror free … Hit the floor shut off the lights As the bullets fly Terror rules the dark of night bouncing from the trees This training ground for punks and thieves Our pools are full of razor blades Fools and innocents believe Love and faith and truth and beauty Can make a garden of this human factory … Bad girls run fast leave home alone No trace or clue of where they’ve gone Sometimes these girls are never found Never fou