“mystery brews interest”

In so many ways Sudan is a mysterious beast of a place. The brewing interests, stewing curiosities, and evolving complexities are forcing me to reevaluate and conceptualize things in new ways. The construction outside of my bedroom that begins at sunrise is ok, serving as an alarm clock, but an alarm clock I don’t really need, as for the first time ever, my body wants to sleep at midnight and wants to wake with the sun. Emerging at meetings caked in mud and grass isn’t a bother, as the bumpy quad-bike ride to reach said destination means a smile-and-wave, street-parade-esque, celebratory procession through town and my ego inflates beyond bother of mud. On the same note, my hair, breasts, and wardrobe have become obsolete markers of my identity, and – given that there are no mirrors here – I am ascribing very little of myself to much more than my ideas, understandings, and ability to transcend (even if only temporarily, thanks) these demarcations. I’m seeing the frog that lives in my bathing quarters as a symphonic accoutrement to the crickets, and the fireflies occasionally trapped in my mosquito net as a bit magical. Shy adolescents are opportunities to create changes – and my colleagues’ incessant, and sometimes annoying, discourse on American politics and the current campaigns as indicators of globalizing progress.

Things are still all types of screwed up, all around me, and I’ve not gone blind. But I’m easing into things, thankfully. Yesterday I visited one of the early-childhood-development centres that SC-USA has “constructed.” I use quotes as the center is little more than the fruits of an individual’s inspiration and Save has merely smacked their proverbial label on the outside. I haven’t seen much other work that can be attributed to the org on this project, aside from the construction of a latrine that I saw children urinating IN FRONT of. Accordingly, in reassessing, it would seem that I have come here in order to get the ball rolling. In a long-winded blog post I wrote in MS Word, and lost before posting when my laptop died, I examined the essential role of education in redeveloping the socio-economic fabric of communities. I don’t have time for that now, but will say that in this country, with some of the lowest social and economic indicators in the world – where a woman is more likely to die in pregnancy or childbirth than complete primary school (1:9 vs 1:100) and where there is less than a half kilometer of paved road in the entire country – and where tensions between those returning from exile and those who stayed and fought the war are rife, there is a lot to do be ‘done’ in the realm of community building and implementation of an education system.

That said, I’m working to create and empower or mobilize a group of community stakeholders (parents, teachers, religious leaders, members of the government, etc) to collectively determine the education needs and opportunities for the youngest members of society. Monday I visited the ECD centre that is currently serving hundreds of kids, without trained teachers, proper facilities, materials, or curriculum. Part of my vision for the core community group is developing the capacity of individuals to construct these elements, as well as develop their sense of ownership and responsibility concerning the education of the next generation. At the centre I was able to discuss this with the current administration and a group of parents present as volunteer child-care providers. The photos below are more telling than my words at this hour. For the record, and for those who haven’t yet realized, clicking on any of the photos will take you to my photo website where I have uploaded additional images that I’m not posting here.

I was graciously welcomed to the group with some great singing and clapping. Jimmy snapped this one:

In the center is KK, the jump-starter of the entire initiative as the ECD program founder. Following the return of so many refugees from Ethiopia, with children of all ages who had been deprived the opportunity to learn, he first began gathering children informally to sing, play, and engage with each other. Now, in partnership with a local NGO (our implementing partner, Nile Inter-Development Programme - NIP) and with SAVE, we're working to build the facility and local community at the same time. He’s a polio survivor and a dynamic guy, to say the least…


The lack of material goods is a serious barrier - one small blackboard for a group of twenty children is far from efficient. I'm working on securing educational toys, games, books, and implements in the near future…learning under a tree is fine on dry days only. Part of the goal of the parent discussion group will be to cultivate traditional toys and educational approaches and incorporate these methods into more modern practices. Likewise, I'm looking to link the education program and the local health care facilities with an efficient referral and documentation system.


A snap from the first meeting with parents, teachers, and school administration to discuss program goals... the guy in the tracksuit is the assistant headmaster. Not pictured, but essential was my translator Simon. I have no idea if he's actually translating, ftw.


Here are a few additional shots from today's visit to an adult education program – English lessons – led voluntarily by a Kenyan man working for NIP. I'm hoping to involve these parents in the community discussion group mentioned above.



Finally, in case you haven't believed me about the mud, here are some shots from first thing this morning!



So here's to this mysterious girl from NY brewing interest in Pagak. Cheers from the bush, y'all.

backlog: June 5 - Arrivals

I forgot how splendid passion juice is. As the name should explain, passion fruit can incite unrestrained splendor for the mouth. My breakfast at the Jacaranda hotel was likewise lovely, though this entry would be incomplete without warning: avoid pili-pili omelets, if your henceforth-hot tongue isn’t ready for passion!

The first night in Nairobi was awash with exhaustion. I awoke for a few hours between my 3 pm arrival to Jomo Kenyatta and work commitments the next day (today) to the long lost buzz of ‘squitos in a netless room for an awkward, overly revealing instant-message or two. Apologies to those who deserve them!

Josephat picked me at 9 am sharp from the hotel today, something I found rather amusing given my ‘Africa-time’ frame of reference. Something must be wrong with me in that I feel so instantly comfortable here. The old-man-Africa smell, once so pungently revolting, is now an almost friendly reminder that I have arrived on the greenest continent. Yesterday’s (and, in general, New York’s) despondency and irritation are almost nominal. Is this progress? My fears were so different with this journey than with the last – before arriving in Uganda I was afraid of such little things and took inordinate precautions – I remember the details of my driver and first SIM card purchase; the potholes on the road from Entebbe and my first spotting of the gnarly maribou stork. Today my fears seem practical. What type of antiseptic must I add to the bathing water? Will my field work entail travel over murram roads that are land-mine ridden? Does the lack of remaining pages in my passport mean trouble from Ethiopian authorities considering the market is on ‘their side’? More on these concerns after leaving luxuriant Nairobi.

My forgetfulness did not end there. How could I have forgotten the differences between being white in Kenya and being white in Uganda? Knowing that Uhuru and the path to independence between the two neighboring former British colonies were radically different, the differences in the air are still striking. The sense of independence as well as collective positioning in terms of national capacity to resist and/or create change – most recently showcased in the post-election crisis here – should have reminded me, but it was really the combined effect of my visit to an expatriate’s posh house in a mixed neighborhood of black and white Kenyans, with the lack of instant racialized attention that being white here generates (compared to being white in Uganda) that smacked me.

The applicable standard of East African hospitality remains ubiquitous – no where have I felt more catered for than in this part of the world (maybe in ATL, once or twice =D ) – but it’s strikingly interesting to be present in the face of the (at least topically) integrated lives that blacks and whites have here.

Likewise fascinating were today’s headlines: Kenyans are crazy for Obama. While I am beyond elated to read of his securing of the democratic nomination, my new colleagues are even more incredibly excited by the news of a Kenyan reaching the White House. Without sounding too snarky or arrogant, it’s almost amusing to witness the sense of connection to Barrack Obama that people feel here – in comparison to the American public’s demonstrated conception of Obama’s ‘Africaness.’ That said, hip hip hooray! November is getting brighter everyday and should Barrack win the election I expect to see not just great things emerge domestically (in the US) – the abridged version of his nomination speech brought tears to my eyes (is this hope?!?) – but also imagine a wave of empowerment washing across all of Africa.