In some ways a visit to South Sudan begins even before you set foot in the country. On passing through the gate of the SPLM compound in Nairobi it is like you have already stepped into South Sudan. People are suddenly taller and darker with distinctive Nilotic features that immediately distinguish them from their Kenyan neighbours. The day I arrived at the office to get my travel documents there were large numbers of people hanging around in the compound. I wasn't sure how many of them had business there or if they were just loafing but I later learned that many of them were there to register to take part in campaigning work for the SPLM. The office was a busy place with the lack of computers and technology seemingly increasing the workload of everybody and contributing to a lot of running up and down corridors by those who are working, their job made harder by large numbers of young men hanging around in the corridors talking. I saw stacks of the blue travel permits that were to become such a familiar sight to me. They were mostly belonging to white people with some belonging to Asians. I wondered what the role of these people was. Were they employees of NGOs or the UN? Perhaps some were journalists? Or were these the capitalistic opportunists who since the CPA have been so willing to go to South Sudan. Their intention being to make a quick buck by providing overpriced goods and services to the foreigners, who have been so willing to spend their dollars that Juba has now become the most expensive city in Africa, despite being one of the least developed. In more ways than one I was getting a glimpse of what were going to become the recurring themes of my trip to South Sudan.
Arriving in Juba airport is in itself an experience and provides the first time visitor to South Sudan a glimpse of how things are in the country. After leaving the plane there is nobody to direct you were to go so applying initiative I decided the only building in site must be the terminal. I entered and once again found there were no signs or specific instructions in the tiny terminal building to direct passengers as to what their next step should be in collecting their bags or going through immigration or customs. A man in uniform handed me a slip of paper. The next step then seemed logical so I took out a pen and sat on the floor while I filled it in. As there seemed to be a distinct lack of formality about Juba airport I doubted anybody would really mind me sitting on the floor. People were crowding around a desk to have their papers stamped and processed. There seemed to be no particular order or queuing system so I joined into the mill and began to push forward to have my passport stamped. That done my next question was "How in the hell do I get my bags?' I couldn't see any sign of the type of conveyor system I had seen in every other airport I had ever been in. Where the passenger just has to wait patiently by the conveyor belt until their bags magically appear through a hole in the wall. I began asking people who seemed to be waiting where we collected our bags. However not knowing any Arabic apart from the word inshalla (This however is a very useful word to know in South Sudan) it meant that I had to ask several people until I found someone who spoke English. He pointed to what looked like gates in the wall and said that eventually the bags would be passed through there. And lo and behold eventually a pick up truck arrived outside the gate, the gate was opened and bags were unceremoniously flung through. I quickly packed my bags and began to look for a trolley on which to carry them. The only one I could see was being pushed by a man who seemed to be an employee of the airport (although I'm still not sure) so I requisitioned his services. Normally I would always move my own bags but this gentleman and the trolley seemed to be inseparable and as I had also brought a large number of supplies and newspapers I couldn't see what harm an extra pair of hands could do.
After passing through customs where everything I had was ripped open and then not even inspected properly we were on our way. After getting outside I located the driver who had been sent to pick me up and we loaded the bags into the car. Now however the trolley man was looking for 10,000 dinar (five dollars US) for the twenty metres he had push the trolley. I found this both absurd and insulting. How could anybody realistically ask for that kind of money for ten minutes work? Eventually I gave him some cigarettes and sent him on his way. The heat in Juba was overwhelming and as I passed through the town the two things that struck me where the poor quality of the roads and the piles of garbage that occupied the side of every street. I wondered 'How can this be the most expensive city in Africa?' However the answer is visible in those same streets as the white Toyota Landcruisers of the NGOs pass up and down along with the Nissan Patrols of the UN. It is hard not to see these people as an occupying force. As they move around their expensive machines are in stark contrast to the mud huts and market stalls that define life for the local population. I was also to learn later when I saw more of the roads that it is the poverty of the South that makes it expensive. The lack of any sort of a manufacturing or food processing industry means that most of what is on sale has to be imported through Kenya and Uganda and the amount of time and effort spent on moving these goods by road means that by the time they reach the markets their prices are massively inflated. Add to this the large number of foreigners willing to pay above the odds on their international salaries or on the expense accounts of their employers.
I was amazed by the amount of money the government is spending on Landcruisers and twin cab Hiluxes. I wondered if they had used this money to improve the roads would they then be able to buy cheaper cars? And surely they could sacrifice some of them to buy a few garbage trucks? Why in a place that is so poor do politicians need such expensive cars? And indeed it seems they find it hard to buy anything that isn't a brand new Toyota 4 x 4. It seems all the more sinister when one considers the arrest of GOSS minister for Finance Arthur Akuiem for his role in buying these same cars at inflated prices and pocketing the difference. How could the government of South Sudan not have been aware of this sooner? And surely some of them must find something obscene in their driving around in such luxury when the modes of transport for most of their countrymen are still bicycles and donkeys?
So while I sit here we're in the middle of another power cut. Thank goodness for the little bit of battery life my laptop manages to have. It's just another one of those little things you get used to in Nairobi. Like no road markings, very few footpaths and generally poor infrastructure. What it results in now is that there are a bunch of people sitting around the office up to nothing in particular because not only can they not work in a power cut they can't even go on the internet and waste time that way. The back up generator is proving to be sadly disappointing as it doesn't provide enough power to run anything properly. The internet just keeps coming on and off as occasionally the server is fed enough power to function for thirty seconds or a minute. The internet connection, and we have a relatively decent one here isn't up to much at the best of times. Even things like emailing a photo that hasn't been shrunk down to a postage stamp size prove to be a bit of a task sometimes.
Of course in terms of deficiency of services this is hardly the worst thing happening in Nairobi. The conditions that some people are subjected too bring out a mixture of feelings in me. Notably anger, sadness and frustration. To see good people deprived of such things as a paved road outside of their house or running water inside is not something I find easy to rationalize. There are no shortage of intelligent, talented and decent people in Nairobi who have been left without decent opportunities. When I remarked to one Kenyan recently that people here were hard working he asked how I could say that when there was no work for most of them to do. Later that evening when leaving a friends house I fell into a hole due to a lack of street-lighting and my right foot went down into an open drain and got soaked. The lads were very apologetic and seemed to feel bad that this had happened to me while I was in their neighbourhood and with them but all that had happened was that I had been given a little glimpse of the (literal) obstacles most Kenyans face every day. I wasn't injured and thankfully the collection of cds they had just burnt me were unharmed. I now have some excellent conscious reggae and hip hop added to my collection.
When the lads were walking me home we were stopped by the police who pretty much asked them in Swahili 'What are you doing with this white man?' Even without understanding the language I could figure out what was going on. The cops never once spoke to or addressed me; it's unusual for me to be the one they are looking out for. It reminded me once again of the very different situation that white people live in here (as if I needed to be reminded!). They replied 'We are walking our brother home.' To which the cops said 'He cannot be your brother he is white.' The lads set him straight though by saying 'We are not racists!'
One European aid worker I know however spent a couple of days in a cell the other week for what was pretty much a drunk and disorderly offence. He was held with fourteen other people included 'suspected Islamic militants'. These guys had fled over the border when the Americans bombed Somalia and been picked up by the Kenyan authorities. Included in the bunch were one Briton and one American who were receiving regular visits from the security services of their respective countries. Apparently they claimed they were innocent but there case may not be helped by the fact they were carrying AK47s when they were picked up! They said they had been given them for self defence and were then pointed in the direction of the Kenyan border.
A lot of people here are blaming the recent upsurge in violent crime here on the number of militants and weapons driven over the border by the American bombing in Somalia (Thanks again Team America!). Another story I have heard however is that in 1999 all the street kids were gathered up by the police and were shipped off to the Congo to join with the rebels. When the media started asking questions they were quickly told to shut up so it never really became common knowledge. Now the situation there has stabilized and these 'kids' are returning with weapons and military training and raising hell. However whatever the cause of the large number of shootings recently one can also never be completely sure that it is as dangerous as the media make out. Still there is no point in taking unnecessary risks but if we allow fear to become our most powerful emotion we are in danger of becoming blinkered and missing out on so much good.
I'm having a great time in Nairobi, but it is a little crazy as well. It is always hot here! But it rains a little as well, but that's hot running water! So far I have only seen bits and pieces of the city. Last night Godano, who works for my uncle, took me to a bar in the slum where he lives. It was the best place I've been so far. Everybody was very friendly and the beer was very cheap. But most importantly I was the only Mizuno (white man) there. If you saw how some Europeans live here it would make you sick. A lot of them just seem to be here to enjoy themselves, well at least of the ones I've met so far. I guess everybody wants to enjoy themselves but I suppose what bothers me is that if you are white here you are seen as different. People presume you are rich and for most of the time they are right. But even a poor European like me is rich by African standards.
Seeing the slum last night was a little crazy. It is full of life and music and it is peoples home. Most of the buildings are shacks made out of galvanise with little shops and bars dotted about the place but a lot of them don't even have running water. It looks cool but then you remember that you are a voyeur and that this is how people have to live and that they are struggling. But still the ones I met in the bar were genuinely friendly and lovely people. I felt more welcome there than in the bars where the Europeans and rich Africans go. But I still think that I wouldn't dare to go there on my own yet. Poverty leads to crime and like I say when people see a Mizuno they presume he is rich and even if I was on the dole in Ireland it still makes me rich by the standards of most Kenyans.
Car jackings are very common here and often people are shot. The most desirable cars for the carjackers are the top of the line landcruisers most aid agencies use that cost e60,000 plus. A couple of friends of my uncle were carjacked and shot dead last week and a couple of hours later the police found the thieves and shot them dead. There are huge shopping centres here were the wealthy people go and you can buy all the same stuff you would find in Europe at similar prices. They are full of security guards carrying huge nightsticks and in Lavington, the neighbourhood where i am staying, most of the houses have security guards and there are mobile patrols all over the place. It reminds me again and again of all the Marxism that so many people are so quick to dismiss. It was the analysis of Marx and Engels and of Malcolm X and of the Black Panthers and I see it in evidence everywhere here. That the police are only needed when there is a such a gap between the rich and the poor that crime becomes inevitable. Here the gap is massive and the police and security presence and is huge and militaristic. Last night I met a friend of Godano's in the bar who is a policeman. For the boys from the slum it gives them a chance of security and respect. It means they can be the big man in their neighbourhood and inevitably there are huge problems with corruption in the police force here.
For Kenyans education is extremely important. Sean, who works for the paper, has been in Africa for as long as my Uncle and was a priest too, said a few years ago he was involved in a survey in the slums where they asked people what their priorities were. He said that above health, sanitation, roads and everything else. Everybody said that there main priority was free primary education. When the one party system ended about four years ago and the new government came to power their main (and some would say only) achievement was the introduction of free primary education. However it is still of quite a poor standard but at least it gives people a chance of literacy that they never had before.
At the moment there is some sort of a function taking place in the house next door. Apparently it is rented out for weddings and other such events and they are blasting out the music. Africans love music and I have heard some fantastic stuff since I have been here. I have heard some live music (including what is coming from next door now) and really want to get out and here as much as I can. I understand a bit more now what Ken Saro-Wiwa meant when he wrote 'Dance away your anger, dance away your sorrow, dance the guns to silence, Dance, Dance!'
I'm going to throw in one more quote and I can't remember who it is from, maybe one of you can help, 'It is not those who can inflict the most but those who can suffer the most who can triumph.' It is something I thought of again and again during the blockades and pickets in Bellinaboy and it something that I sincerely hope is true. You see I'm not sure what natural resources Kenya has and most of the economic activity I've seen is on a small scale and I am left to wonder again and again where is the real hope for this country and it seems to be in its people. There something inspiring about their spirit and their attitude. If they can ever shake off their corrupt rulers and their exploiters both native and foreign then they can have a real and viable future, but I guess you could say that it's the same the world over.
