South Sudan – Seriously!

This story might be short, as I only have a handful of days in this next country to write about. Actually, I spent longer waiting for the entrance visa approval than I was actually on location, but somehow this makes it even more thrilling for me that I’m able to drop in on a whim like this.

The relatively new nation of South Sudan is not a place many travellers get to explore. Formed in 2011 when the mostly-christian South split from the Islamic-majority of the rest of Sudan after long civil war, and subject of significant fighting still; conflict has scarred the area. As is often the case in such locations, the United Nations has several disciplines deployed, and most “outsiders” who come to the country have some connection to this work or military. Myself included.

I came with a few preconceived ideas of what I’d expect when I arrived. My company has had staff there since last June, and I saw photos and heard stories, but that does nothing to dampen my subtle excitement when my flight finally touched down in the country’s Capital. I love arriving at airports like this, where I walk off the aircraft outside and immediately feel the atmosphere of the place, then cross the hot tarmac to a crowded concrete room and wait for my luggage, exactly the same as the vastly different people around me. It just feels like the start of adventure to me!

One of the things I knew about the country before I arrived was the red dirt and desert-like conditions. But as it turns out, South Sudan is much more diverse than I’d originally thought. I only spent my short time in 2 cities, but I was told that “next time” I come back I must go see the national parks and wildlife migrations and the river deltas and mountains. So hopefully one day I can!

In the midst of this city is a gorgeous oasis, The Acacia Village Hotel in Juba. I had two nights here and would have happily stayed way longer if the choice were up to me! I spent my free time birdwatching in the courtyard and consuming my body weight in tropical fruit. But this wasn’t a vacation I could extend, and early Monday morning the base manager took me to get my access ID and off to the next location for work.

My company has an aircraft and crew here, and my job was to ensure we were operating properly and as safely as possible, and to also check in with and encourage the crew who have been working here. It’s one thing for me to pop in to places like this for a few days; easy for me to romanticize and enjoy, but I have no doubt it would be significantly different to regularly spend 6 week rotations working in conflict conditions. I give them credit.

There’s not much I can actually write publicly about work details or the area we were at, but I do want to take you on a quick tour of “home base”. Here’s a snapshot of life as I saw it.

At the camp we’d often see these birds – which were equally fascinating and frightening. I’m not sure it’s clear from my photos, but picture a vulture about 4 feet tall. Eek!

I have so much more that I wish I could write about my four and a half days here, it was an absolute whirlwind and I feel like I was there for double that time. If you see me in person feel free to ask me to share more stories.

Until next time,

Ali.

DRC Dreaming

I seem to remember saying that I’d write about my time in Central Africa, way way back and long ago… I’ve been wanting to get to this for ages, but somehow day after day I find myself without a single second to spare for creativity.  Shame on me.  But in my defence, it’s a bit tricky to get wrapped back up in the emotion of travel that took place so many years ago.  I have so many great memories, and I will never forget what it was like when I first opened the door of our aircraft and looked out at the little airport in Kisangani, but I’m struggling with the best way to translate that feeling to these words.

Here we are now, though, ready to zip back through the years and across continents.  I was 22 years old when I first arrived and completely unable to contain my excitement of the adventures ahead of me.  I was so naive to the struggles the Congolese population has had to endure, starting out entirely enamoured with my own thrill of the unknown.  I brushed off the well-meaning concerns from my family, friends, and colleagues; now with a little more maturity I feel bad about the way I handled that.  Remember the invincibility of youth?….    I’ve mentioned in previous posts how I used to be a flight attendant, well that’s also what brought me to the Congo.  The charter airline I worked for won a contract with the United Nations, flying support for the World Food Programme.   (Want to learn more?  Follow this link: WFP in DRC )   So we brought a little propeller airplane from Calgary to the Congo – a four-day journey and quite the story on its own! – and took up residence in a local motel compound in the city.

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Dash 8 in DRC
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That’s me!
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Lots of waiting at airports – finding shade under the wing
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Home Sweet Home

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The Democratic Republic of the Congo is a stunningly beautiful country.  I remember dense forests and jungle, massive rivers, mountains and volcanoes and lakes with shimmering water in jewel tones.  And actual jewels.  The country has so many natural resources, including diamonds and gold, that we would joke about wandering the riverbanks in hope of “accidentally” collecting gems in the tread of our shoes!  One thing absent from my memories of the Congo are wildlife sightings.  The first couple weeks I was there my I had my eyes constantly scanning the forest along the sides of the road hoping to see some of the animals Africa is famous for, but without any luck.  A long history of hunting has meant that very little wildlife remains anywhere near the cities.

Mountains and lakes in the North East
Near Goma
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Congo River
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Daily Drive

 

As a crew, isolated from our families and the familiarity of home we became close over the months we lived in the same compound.  Most of the time two other crews were also living there; I remember crews from South Africa and also from the Netherlands, and we became our own little community inside the high walls of our home motel.  We would have our meals together outside under a thatched roof in the centre courtyard, often sitting around and sharing stories until late in the evening.  I remember one ‘art vendor’ that would come by each Saturday night who must have been friends with the gatekeeper – he was the only one ever allowed to come in and show his wares to us.  We bought paintings and carvings, bracelets and earrings, but drew the line and all gasped in horror the one time he brought us an animal skin.  He seemed genuinely surprised that none of us wanted to buy the leopard pelt he unrolled with another painting.  That really wasn’t at all what I meant when I said I wanted to see animals!

The city of Kisangani is visually fascinating as well.  Home to roughly a million people, give or take by a wide margin, history is a part of daily life as old Belgian-style buildings from the Colonial days stand scarred by bullets and rocket grenades from the decades of conflict.  Take a turn down a side street and you’ll find traditional clay and thatch structures housing modern businesses or families each speaking on cell phones. FullSizeRender 57FullSizeRender 56

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Kisangani commerce

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Kisangani Gas Station
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Kisangani
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The Congo River is part of daily life
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The sweetest little server at an outdoor restaurant.  (photo credit to Jenilee)

And now, while I’m happily reviewing photos, here are a few more of my favourites.  I’m pretty sure these images are more interesting than any words I have left anyway.

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Joy personified

Looking back on it all, I can’t quite believe I got to live life in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, a place so few Westerners are able to see.   I remember the military, and how we would need to stop everything we were doing twice a day to show respect during the Flag Ceremony, when the country flag was raised in the morning and lowered at night.  I remember seeing small pickup trucks full of young men and machine guns.  I remember kind and generous individuals just happy to show me their home, and being amazed that so many people just seemed to exude happiness in a way I was unaccustomed to.  I remember having to require our passengers, mainly ex-guerrilla soldiers we were bringing to the city to start new lives, to place their guns in the cargo hold of the airplane and my UN provided security/translators trying to explain why an AK-47 couldn’t stay on their lap for the flight.   I remember the friendships I formed during my many months living there.

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Jenilee and I share a taxi