By: John Jefferson
Malakal
Malakal is a labyrinth
of compounds shops and even traditional tukuls on the outskirts of the
city. It is home to a large market in
the city center, and many small businesses, mostly run by Northern Arabs and
expats from neighboring countries. The
extreme heat, dust, and poverty make it less hospitable than cities farther to
the south. Somewhat of a garrison city,
we found that there was a heightened sense of security and anyone that stuck
out or didn’t fit in was scrutinized.
Pastor Dave and I stuck out like a tarantula in a bowl of Corn Flakes,
and though we pretty much abided by the recommendation not to take any photos
or wander around alone, we drew attention, and that attention landed us, along
with our Sudanese counterparts, in security office. Apparently, the fact that we were all at a
tea shop along the Nile entertaining some “refugees” from the North became of
concern to a petty official, who took it upon himself to find out what we were
up to. This led to a series of events
which resulted in first being sent to a state commissioner, and then later to
the office of an even higher official.
It was somewhat miraculous how these events unfolded, but no doubt to
the advantage of the mission. Through
this chain of events, we were able to finalize the security arrangements, and
gain the tacit blessing of the local authorities. The fact that there was inscrutable evidence
that people were being starved to death just across the border area from where
we were was motivation enough to garner support.
On the procurement
side, it remained up in the air as to how exactly we would get a truck to
transport the sorghum for which we were still feverishly negotiating. Heavy rains signaling a change in season
caused prices to skyrocket from $65 per 220 lb sack, to over $85. Then there was the transportation to the
river, across the river, and to storage, costs which ran another $4 – $7.5 SSP
per bag. The price tags were adding up
and time was running out. The torrential
downpour the night after our last security meeting on May 3rd seemed
to signal that as soon as one obstacle was removed, another would immediately
be put in its place. We had finally
purchased food, arranged for transportation, gotten all necessary clearances and
assembled a team that could get us to the border, only to have Mother Nature
weigh in with loud crashing thunder and rain of biblical proportions. (In Sudan, dirt roads and rain mean impassible
mud)
As if that weren’t enough, I was awakened at 1 AM by Pastor
Dave who explained to me that he had woken up with chills in a pool of sweat. After calming his concern he might have
malaria or something even more serious (I really had no idea), I gave him the
classic medical response of “take two aspirin and go back to bed”. We eventually did get back to sleep, but not
before rain started, which didn’t stop until we woke up again later that
morning. At first doubt crept into our
minds as to whether or not we had missed our window of opportunity to get the
mission completed before the inception of the four-month rainy season. Fortunately, as the day went on the
temperature rose and the ground started to dry out. By then we already started to make final
preparations to take the journey into the bush.
Concern over Pastor Dave’s health and symptoms manifested itself into a
full blown case of “we have to get him on the plane back to Nairobi”. Fever, chills, weakness and nausea are not
things one wants to bring on a two or three day foray into the Sudanese bush
where hospitals are nonexistent, travel is extremely difficult, and weather
conditions can get the best of even the stoutest person. Now down to ENG’s George Kori, John Jefferson,
and Moniem Kuku, the NRRDO rep, the team left the western shore of the Nile by
midafternoon, bound for the North.
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