Finding my feet so I can land on them

Kampala is a massive contrast to Khartoum. Instantly and most obviously it's shown in the people who are free, open, vibrant and colourful. I'm seeing knees and elbows and hair in all sorts of weird and wonderful variations (considering getting braids myself).

The next striking difference is the land. I never thought that I would look back at Khartoum and think of it as clean, but comparatively it is. In Khartoum they dispose of rubbish by dumping it in a vacant lot and burning it each now and then. The methods are the same here, the difference is that in dry Khartoum there is not a huge chance for bacteria to breed. Here on the other hand, the wet air, warm climate and regular rainfall are ideal conditions for creating a festering stench of flies, mould, rodent habitats and general filth. I have begun a neurotic habit of using hand antibacterial gel constantly.

When I arrived I was feeling washed up and failed from fleeing the tough bits of South Sudan, sick of being on my own and tired of always saying goodbye to awesome and awe-inspiring people. So I was feeling right sorry for my pitiful self. Thoughts of what-the-fuck-am-I-doing-with-my-life, where-is-this-all-leading and where's-my-place-in-the-world all started to settle in my head. For the very first time in 8 years I seriously considered going back to New Zealand... to do what? Art school post grad. Yet another year of self indulgent procrastination from achieving anything of substance. An easy escape.



My guest house was scummy for even my exceedingly low African standards. Although it was in the bubbly centre of town it wasn't cool. I shared a room with 3 men: a loud Kenyan who farted in his sleep, a sleazy Congolese who snored and a Japanese guy who I can't really complain about. Below the guest house the shop played their one CD loud and proud 24-7, I mean I really like Dolly Parton, but there is only so much 'Islands in the sun' any person can take. The deal breaker was the toilet, no seat, pitiful flush, vile smell and a constant puddle, right next to the shower that had the same smell so I never felt clean.

I found a wad of Sudanese currency I had hidden in a secret pocket (so had more money than I thought in Sudan but the exchange rate to Ugandan shillings is weak) . But my bank card has expired so I'm eating into the last of my hard currency... It's getting really low. shit.

I'm a bit more sorted out now. I made contact with the father of a lovely lass I met in Egypt, I was expecting a polite-but-dismissive chat and maybe a cup of tea if I was lucky. I got sorted out with a SIM card (phone number of my choice) , dinner, night out a a club, introduction to some cool locals, and a job interview. Wow.

I have also moved guest houses to a place full of blankies who know how to play shit-head. It has clean toilets and hot showers.

My mother arrives in a couple of days, and my fantastic friend David has posted me my mail. There is a chance my new bank card will not be amongst that (my bank mail is being sent to my old flat that was inhabited by a particually messy bloke) , but the mail will contain all my bank details so I might be able to get a new card sent here. I hate UK banks... they are so much effort.

Sudan in Retrospect

Best thing brought: Sleeping bag for overnight camping at the pyramids.

Worst thing brought: Sexy little black dress, a dormant STI.

Best thing bought: Food and drink: cheap, filling and wonderful.

Worst thing bought: The travel permits for down south, 44USD, and ages to get... no one checked them, not once, not even a glance, they didn't give a monkeys.

Most surprising: Being fired, and the general attitude of the volunteer facilitator. The incredible support of fellow volunteers who instantly and brilliantly fall into the roles of friend, confident, guide, family member and entertainer.

Typically Sudanese: Being invited into a strangers house and them treating you like it is the biggest honour in the world to have you there, infectious generosity beyond compare.

What's accepted: Gender inequality, I have somehow turned into a raving feminist, I liken they way women are treated here to apartheid. women are seen as not just different but inferior, I ask if it is wrong to let a Muslim drive a truck but not a christian - of course it is wrong. I ask is it wrong to let a black person drive a truck but not an Asian - of course it is wrong. I ask, so why are women not entitled to passenger vehicles or heavy vehicles licences here - oh, but that's because they are female. Defended in the name of tradition (like slavery was) and religion (like Human sacrifice was)... see, absolutely raving.

What's not accepted: questioning authority, being atheist, a female who wants to cut her hair short (I was ok, because I'm growing out my short hair... into a fluffy mouse brown mullet as it turns out, my hair never left the 80s)

What works: pay as you go mobile phones, without addresses or credit people in mud houses with 2 hours electricity a night stay in touch easily. Also tea ladies, butt hoses, trees and bus boys.

What doesn't work: Plastic, it's everywhere, seriously Plastic bottles and bags should be banned until there is some sort of system of recycling or effective disposal.

What I learnt: The UN are not liked by many, they are seen as corrupt pawns of western ideology that create inflation, make the rich richer, exploit poor nations, pander to the US and never actually resolve any problems.

What I learnt to do: Smoke shisha without coughing. listen to the ideas and opinions of my students (see above).

I knew I was in Africa when: The tomatoes in my fridge were frozen solid but the the water in ice tray in my freezer remained liquid.

Out of the Desert, Over the Savannah and into the Jungle

I've had quite a diverse week. It has already become a patchwork of memories all stitched together hicklety-picklety. Nothing dramatic happened: no dive-rolling from the Lords Resistance Army, no fighting off rapists, no chasing after thieves... I had listened to so much scary information I had started to believe it was going to be a battle of violence and chaos all the way. Yes, there pockets of violence and chaos, but mostly it is everyday people doing their everyday things.

John was an inspiration. In Dilling we climbed up a stone hill and watched the sunset. High enough to see 360 degrees of horizon and low enough to watch the people in the town do what they had to do before the light fades and before the town's electricity starts. I made the comment that it was going to be hard getting down the hill (me barefooted and in a skirt), he said "Not hard: fun." By golly, he's right. Isn't that what fun is, Doing something difficult enough that you enjoy the challenge. How boring life would be if everything was easy.

I caught a bus to the next town 4 hours south, It is a UN centre so it had 24 hour electricity. I was met by John's friend's cousin and stayed with her and her lovely family in a little mud-hut village only 10 minutes walk out of the town. They were the best, most chilled out, coolest people ever. It was awesome staying with them. I can't speak Arabic but I can say things like "may I please use the shower" and "where is the toilet" ... ok, I can say "Possible wash?" and "toilet where?" but it's all in the hand gestures and intonation. The father could speak English which helped. I maybe should have stayed longer. I really enjoyed the mud-hut lifestyle and they really were the coolest people.

After that I was on my own, I got a Lorie, a bus packed with 40 people and a truck down to the next town called Bentiu, it took about 24 hours, including a 3 hour wait at a bus stop and a 4 hour sleep on a hired bed in a truck stop. I did this simply by asking people where they were going, I found an unarmed silent soldier who was going to the same place as me... and followed him. For the whole 24 hours I was like his pet, where he went I followed. He didn't say much, but seemed to understand English, he nodded or shook his head in response to my incessant questioning.

The land changed from desert to savannah, the white robes on the men started to meld into bright shirts and trousers. Camels turned into goats and donkeys, Clear sky filled with hawks, storks and clouds. Orange turned to green. Women's hair and shoulders became visable.

Bentiu was expensive, It is the result of all the NGOs that have come in. Normally a guest house is 3USD, but here they were asking 63USD and they would settle for no less than 30USD, and that was after some hard bargaining. I left Khartoum with about 400USD in Sudanese currency, I though it would be more than enough, If the other stops were anything like this I wasn't going to make it... there are no international cash machines in Sudan, and no money exchanges where I was.

Bentiu was also Hot (Hot with a capital letter). I knew what to do to sleep; I poured water over my purple flowery moo-moo (I bought it in Dilling, Sudanese sleep wear comes in bright, bold and flowery or brighter bolder and more flowery... they have yet to release a line in ethno-punk-sophista-goth yet) . In Khartoum the water would evaporate into the dry air and be all lovely and cooling. In Bentiu the water became hot, so I was just lying in a hot wet moo-moo.

I was hot, tired, exhausted in fact. My motivation, determination, keenness, tenacity and the general will to experience this as fun had left me. I could get more trucks south and carry on. But I decided not to. If I was travelling with someone I we would have probably encouraged each other to keep going, But I wasn't really up for encouraging myself, so I wandered over to the airport (a big falling-apart barn in a field) and got a (200USD) ticket to Juba. A wee 12 seater plane took me there over stunning scenery and through a bumpy storm.

In Juba I went straight to the bus stop and book a ticket on the next transport heading south. It was a bus going straight to Kampala, the capital of Uganda, leaving the next morning. The little guest house behind the bus station was only 20USD (much cheaper than I had anticipated) but it cleared me out of all my Sudanese cash, I changed some US dollars to have dinner. South Sudan is like another country, I was served by a waitress wearing a tiny strappy top and tight cut-off jeans with hair like Macy Grey, in a cafe/bar. I ate beef and chips on a flat plate with a fork... stuff I haven't seen for months.

I had spoken so much about my wonderful husband waiting ever so patiently for me in Juba that I was a bit disappointed when I got there to remember that he didn't exist. Darn

The Bus to Kampala was an uneventful 12 hours with no toilet stops (well for a lady wearing trousers anyway), a man with a cowboy hat and bad breath sitting next to me delighted in telling me how dangerous the road was and how we could be stopped by rebels or bandits on the way. The presence five solders with AK47s on the bus that made me nervous when they first got on, then made me more comfortable.

I'm in Uganda, shared a room with 2 Kenyan guys who were on my bus, now I'm in a dorm room in a shabby little guest house in the city. There are cash machines here... unfortunately my bank card expired in December. Hopefully My mother (who is in Hungary or somewhere) will be able to pick up the new one when she stops by Edinburgh, she'll be here next week.

If my I had a working camera you would be seeing photos of all those typically beautiful and fascinating sites associated with Africa: boy with stick and tyre; huge orange sun low in a red sky silhouetting black trees; flocks of birds in elegant formation; chickens pecking at my feet on the bus; lorry packed to the hilt with people, furniture, bags and children; skinny old lady with a long stick standing on one leg, her face covered in patterned scarification staring at me like I was the strangest thing she had ever seen; fields of little round mud brick houses with thatched roofs; and some of the most interesting toilets I have ever used. But my camera is still broken so you'll just have to imagine it.

Leaving Las Khartoum

So I'm on my way, I travelled 9 hours to meet up with Kasia and Maria two volunteers who work long hours in the middle of nowhere (outside a place called El Obeid) teaching English and other useful skills to Darfurians. Really wonderful to see them. I met them at the church where mass was in full swing, I went through the wrong door and ended up in the wings stage left with a few nuns. I pretended I was praying while sending a text to Kasia who came and found me. Spent a night in a convent, in a hospital bed. all very clean and white and proper.

Yesterday I came down to Dilling. I'm spending a couple of nights here hanging out with John, a volunteer from the programme that I was with. It's beautiful, really peaceful and chilled. they have electricity for two hours in the evening... how the hell am I typing this then? some places (like the information centre at the University where John works) have their own generators.

I'm staying in a guest room at an NGO called FAR (something African relief - I think) . It's more expensive than a guest house but the information is invaluable. The owner/manager/whatever is from Uganda and knows the roads south. so I asked him a few things and we went through my maps together (maps that I printed off the UN joint logistics centre website before I left) :

Are the trucks regular? yes, there are no buses but plenty of trucks that take passengers.
Land mines? there are land mines in the areas, but the trucks don't drive in those areas.
Guest houses? there are a few, but lots of people who travel sleep outside, you will be probably invited to stay in peoples houses.
Do women and children travel these routes? Yes, not as much as the men, but you'll find them.
Language? it will be mostly Arabic but you'll get more English the further south you go.
Timescale? to Uganda probably 6-9 days.

Good info.

I was feeling all very apathetic and numb about travelling, I think I might have been my defence to all the information of how dangerous it is to travel south. I know it is not going to be easy, and yes I know it's dangerous. but after talking to loads of people I still think it is my safest and most practical overland route. I have now decided that to stop myself going crazy with anxiety that I'm only going to listen to advise from people who have actually been here. Now that I'm on my way and I'm getting useful advice (like information about water... there will be nothing filtered for a good part of the trip, I have purification tablets for 75 litres) I'm starting to get more excited, and am really looking forward to the journey.

What Sudan lacks in infrastructure, sealed roads, public transport systems and reliability, it makes up for in people who consider it an absolute honour to help a foreigner.

I still need to find a contact in Juba. The city that is second only to Tokyo in accommodation prices.

It all seems very do-able, and you may see being a small single female traveller as a disadvantage, but there are a hell of a lot a benefits, like the overwhelming desire for people to protect me. To make myself more understandable, and more treasured I have invented a husband, I'm wearing a wedding ring, and have photos (thanks Joss). My husband is perfect, he is waiting for me in Juba, and he is big and tough and strong and powerful (but not rich) and he owns me.

I have had to lose a lot of weight... my bag, not me personally. I'm down to one pair of trousers, one skirt, a face flannel for a towel (trick learnt from mick). I still have too much weight, sleeping bag, mosquito net, first aid. Also loads of unnecessaries, I have two red t-shirts, one is about the bucket fountain in wellington and was designed by my friend so I can't lose that, and the other was given to me when I joined the ministry of burlesque in 2003 and it says 'foxy' on the back so I can't lost that either. I have two pairs of socks and two bras but 7 pairs of pants... and you can't give pants away so it means throwing them away. I'm far to attached to my possessions to ever be Buddhist.

By the way (Alison), I'm back to size 12. I Had toned into a trim size ten last year when I was dancing, and ghost touring. but after months of no exercise and sugary foods I'm back to normal. my can-can butt is comfortably sliding down to the backs of my knees and since I stopped pole-dancing the bingo wings have made a comeback.

This might be my last post for a few hundred kilometres, I'm losing reception on my phone too. So remember no news is good news. I'll be in touch as soon as I can.

The South Sudan Plan

Just so you have a sort of idea what i'm going to do I'm going to get to Uganda anyway I can. I have made a wee map for you while I wait to get my final pay check from the newspaper. I have several options, I don't know what will be best until I get there.

Getting ready to leave

Printing photos, sending emails, writing reports, applying for visas, saying goodbyes, scrutinising maps, attending parties, cleaning out dust. I leave on Thursday the 5th, I must be out of the country by the time my visa expires on the 21st, That give me 2 weeks to get from here to the Ugandan boarder. This will be my most hard-core travelling I have done yet. There are a few legs of the journey that have no bus routes, actually no roads. But there are trucks that deliver goods all across the country. and once I get into the south, English becomes the common language. At the end of it when I get through into Uganda I get to hang out with my mother for a bit. She is making her way back to NZ from England via anywhere she can add to her itinerary.

I spent the past weekend (which was the regular Friday day off with an extra bonus of Prophet Mohammed's birthday on Saturday) hanging about doing S.F.A. at the main volunteer flat so am now having to make up for it. while I was enjoying doing nothing I had left my door open at my house so a layer of very fine dust covered every visible surface. darn. It was only a couple of mils thick but it just gets everywhere.

I know I have mentioned the heat before but I really don't think I can over stress it. It's hot here. I have been using different methods to keep cool at night. First I was sleeping nude under the fan, I would take a cold shower several times during the night. Then after talking to the other volunteers I was advised of some more ingenious methods. Like sleeping clothed, and taking the cold showers while dressed. Using this idea I have discovered that soaking my sheets in water before I go to bed helps, and I've have even started to put my sheets in the fridge. Emily has a great idea, she soaks a face flannel in water and freezes it in a U shape to place behind her neck.

The days can also be tough. I can't take cold showers during the day because the water tank on the roof heats up, so I need to fill up a bucket and let it cool down.

You guys seemed to really enjoy that last post, thank you for your emails and myspace messages.. It's really amazing to be in contact with so many of you. I even got my first overseas phone call (from Star, who is now in Abu Dahbi) which was a delight. My mother once travelled from South Africa to Kenya.. she did it without email, blogs, myspace, text messages, downloadable UN maps. It was all landlines and post offices in those days. Anyway, here's a couple more classroom conversations for ya.

Engineering Students: 'Visit to the Ethnographic Museum' class

Ehab: Miss Rayshil, can I ask you a question?
Me: Sure
Ehab: That thing in your face, er, what is it.
Me: A piercing
Ehab: Piercing? Right. Is it a tribal thing?
Me: No, it's personal choice, but a lot of my friends have different piercings, Kind of like we are trying to create our own tribe.
Ehab: I see them on movies and music videos. Do you do it to yourself because you think it looks cool?
Me: Er, yes, I guess I do.
Ehab: Ok, does it mean you think you are bad or tough.
Me: Nope, just that you like to have bits of metal through your skin.
Ehab: Because on the TV it is just tough people who have them, they have tattoos too.


Various Students: 'So you want to write love poems' class. I asked the students to write a smiley here are some results.

'I love you like my eyes.'

'I miss you like a lost child misses his parents.'

'I need you like I need oxygen.'

'You trap me like being trapped in quicksand.'

'For me, you are like winter for the Sudanese, Like Summer for the English and like peace for the Iraqis.'

'I'm falling for you like falling off a mountain.'