There is Hope

This is the third time I’m writing this… Third! It’s not even that interesting; it’s one of those general mumblings but the last two times I wrote this there was a power cut. So I’m writing in Word now... and not appreciating the green and red squiggly lines hindering my grammatical creativity. Ok pointing out my bad spelling.

I met up with the Canadian UN Envoy who I don’t think is in the UN or an Envoy (I think he works an adviser to the UN in issues of disarmament) but I can confirm he is Canadian. He introduced me to two of his workmates. They talked shop a lot. Masses of information on rebel groups, NGOs, tribes, weapons, militant forces and motives all wafted above my head. I listened and tried to keep up but really had nothing to add to the conversation except when it targeted down to topics like Britney’s hair or toilets.

I learnt a lot. I found out that one of the biggest and most powerful NGOs is the NRA (national rifle association, in NGO speak there is a hell of a lot of TLA – three letter acronyms) The NRA have a rep on the UN and they are one of the first NGOs to move into volatile areas and work for peoples God given rights to carry arms. It’s all such a big mess.

After asking if there was any good news, I got a few lovely stories of hope beautifully told by a man from Uruguay whose job it is to find something to do with all the soldiers left over from the Sudanese civil war (so they don’t form militant groups).

I think I managed to catch most of the story. He said that there were two warring tribes in the south of Sudan, the Dinka and the Nuir. The women from both sides, sick of their men dieing, got together and agreed to withhold sex until there was peace between them. They even got the prostitutes to strike. The men started talking to each other realising they had a common problem, and held a meeting, an agreement was reached and the fighting stopped. How’s that for conflict resolution.

The guys have given me some good advice on leaving Sudan. I had planned to cross at the safest land border which is Ethiopia, they suggest not doing that because the Ethiopian/Kenyan border is too dodgy. So I’m going to head directly south to Uganda. It means stopping at Juba the capital of South Sudan where there are so many NGOs working there that the house prices have been pushed higher than London. It’s unlikely to find a place to stay for under 80usd per night. I’m going to have to make a friend in Juba before I leave Khartoum.

I have started a myspace page (www.myspace.com/youngcrone... you properly could have guessed that one) I had hopped to use the instant message function to talk to Missy. I’m a bit of a novice at this and I think I’d have to download it first… not so easy in a third world internet café (that should be an oxymoron). I have wasted hours with failed attempts to make my page look good (I’ve settled with plain) I placed photos and quotes, and even made a wee slideshow. I now log into 4 different websites when I sit down at a screen.

So through myspace I have been able to catch up with people I haven’t seen for ages and people who exist in a world that I left. It kind of feels like a step back into Scotland, and kind of like a step backwards. I can see myself deserting it the way I did with my Gmail account. It’s a retreat into an insular world of my memory. It’s escapism. In a strange was it’s also bought back a wee part of the negative stuff too.

Remember when I left Scotland I spoke of a heartbreak and then didn’t mention it again. Well just because I haven’t mentioned it doesn’t mean it’s healed. The myspace step backwards has made me realise that maintaining email contact (no matter how funny or warm or reassuring or witty or delightful) keeps me trapped in a continuous cycle of emotions. As long as I stay in touch while I still care I’ll be nagged with pain and distrust and doubt. So after getting this perspective from my tarot cards I have decided to stop contact. Yesterday I wrote an email in the past tense. It’s taken me 30 years to get my heart broken and 6 months to get to grips with it. But I think I’ve got there finally.