A combination of inappopriate footwear, slippery concrete after last nights rainstorm and my own innate clumsiness has led to what may or may not be a broken toe.
The middle toe on my right foot won't bend, and its swelling... it doesn't hurt super bad, which leads me to believe that its not broken... but its also more crooked than it was before... which says, "I'm broken" to me.
Then again its hard to tell, one of my colleagues just said, "Well, honestly, all of your toes look like they're broken... I can't really tell." I can't really fault him for what was an honest assessment of the situation.
Of course, being in Sudan, there is no way to verify one way or another... Coincidently, I'll be in Nairobi on Monday, if its still crooked and stiff I'll get an x-ray.
Jen, Josh, will you still love me if I marry you in flats?
**note: my staff just told me that if my toe really is dislocated, the best cure is to have a woman who has given birth to twins snap it back into place very early in the morning. I'll be sleeping in socks tonight.
My friend and TUSPHTM classmate, Aimee, is also working in South Sudan. She wrote the following blog post at her blog, TruthandBeautyRwanda. I've copied it here because I thought it was so lovely.
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Keep on Keepin' On
I learned a few things in the field this week. One: it’s fly season in the Sudan. I have never seen so many flies in my life. If Alfred Hitchcock were still alive and interested in making some sort of sequel to that bird movie, Sudan would be the place to do it. They are disgusting, pesky, and everywhere you don’t want them to be—in your latrine for instance, or at the breakfast table, or in the car buzzing around your face. Two: Sudan brings an entirely new appreciation to the word “inaccessible”. I feel like I’ve seen enough of Africa in the past few years to have a pretty accurate understanding of how remote villages can be, how difficult it is to access water, health care, education. Well, let me just say a thing or two about Southern Sudan. It’s large—enormously large. We spent the majority of the week visiting health facilities and attending meetings in Duk County, which consistently suffers from frequent insecurity between tribes, flooding and poor roads, making it virtually inaccessible for roughly six months out of the year. We made these site visits just on the tail end of dry season, often travelling three hours in one direction to reach our destination. It was a lot of time in the car. Calling the roads “bad” would be comparable to making a statement like, “Americans like reality television.” It’s comically understated and doesn’t come close to grasping the reality of the situation. Goats, cattle, the occasional acacia tree and tukuls dot the landscape as far as the eye can see, on some of the flattest, driest, unforgiving land I have ever seen…land that will be flooded in another month, and will remain this way until October or November. I simply can’t comprehend how the Sudanese live the way they do.
I’m continuously amazed at how incredibly hopeful and wonderful the Sudanese are, after decades of conflict and a completely devastated infrastructure. They greet us at community meetings with soft drinks and smiles, using utterly charming English phrases like “Yes, this is well and good” or in response to a statement, “Ah, correctly” or “What say you?” I really, really like the Sudanese. The frustrations bubble to the surface when you realize how little we as humanitarian organizations are capable of doing, how overwhelming vast the needs are, how we are barely scratching the surface. I sat at meetings this week where people are “footing” 5 hours to reach a health clinic that has one community health worker and one traditional birth attendant. No midwife, no clinical officer, no lab technician. They are sharing a stethoscope, have no access to sanitation facilities, receive medications months late due to impassable roads and lack of transportation.
And yet we sit, meeting after meeting, day after day, listening to dedicated staff at each facility list their challenges and requests calmly and without criticism, making requests for things as basic as soap or buckets for deliveries, kerosene for the vaccination fridge, uniforms for the staff. It’s heartbreaking and defeating, yet we do the best that we can. The meetings always start late and last way too long. The available food typically makes us sick. The heat leads to restless nights. The bumpy car ride gives us pounding headaches. Yet we’re still here. We write more proposals. We try to fill gaps. We work longer days. Somehow, this peek into the other side of the human condition—the struggle, the commitment, the resilience and capacity to keep going—to strive for better, to remain hopeful, is what we need to push on.
I'm taking requests for blog posts. No subject is too inane, silly, serious, shallow, deep, whatever. For example, I just received this email from a friend...
"Jen - would like to see an update on your blog - of all you listed as items that you took - what has been useful, what would you of bought more of and what was just a waste?"
Well friend, let me tell you... First, to see a list of all of the things that I did bring with me the first time, see this link.
Of these, here is what was useful, not sufficient, and a waste of space...
Clothes:
Some things, like my insecticide-treated-zip-off-hiking-pants and cap with an anti-sunburn flap at the back are just way too dorky for me to wear. Even in Sudan, I have sufficient pride that I can’t make myself wear these atrocities of fashion. I did neglect to pack shorts, and so sometimes I zip off the legs of the pants and wear them for gardening. I don’t understand why practical clothes have to be so hideous. For example, I also bought really expensive, Gore-tex, heavy hiking boots. I have never worn them. They’re clunky, hot, heavy, unattractive and totally unnecessary for my lifestyle here. Also, I already have trouble walking in a straight line and not tripping and/or running into things on a regular basis. They extra weight on both feet make this much worse.
Most of my other clothes then fall into 1 of 2 categories. Those which are ruined, and those which no longer fit. Clothes here are all vigorously washed by hand, with this miserable Ugandan soap which is sold in long sticks. It’s the same shade of blue as the stuff that they put in public toilet bowls… and unfortunately, if you’re not careful, it dyes your clothes that same color. Its also really harsh. So, most things, like my t-shirts, pajama pants and underwear are thin, holey and bluish. In just 4 months,at least half of my clothes are ruined. The other problem is fit. A steady diet of goat and rice, plus regular yoga has meant that I’m beginning to resemble my pre-New Orleans self-- Good for my health, attractiveness and self-esteem- bad for my wardrobe.
I did bring some cotton button-up shirts, I LOVE them, I’ve bought 2 more in the meantime and I wear them all the time. Really the perfect shirts, cool, professional, modest, washable, and the patterned ones don’t show stains.
Anything with long sleeves or intended for warmth is useless. Despite the fact that my colleagues routinely insist that Yambio is soooo cold, it rarely drops below 80.
Finally, the bathrobe was a good idea. Living with a dozen people and 2 night guards means that a late night, flashlight guided excursion to the kitchen to get a drink of water can be a public event.
Office supplies:
All unavailable here, all useful, all make my life easier.
Anti-bug supplies
The single best buy was the insecticide treated sleeping sheet from rei. Great for icky sheets, coldish nights, keeping crawly things at bay and avoiding bed bugs. LOVE IT! The mosquito net is useful for when one isn’t provided otherwise… but this rarely happens. I don’t use the mosquito repellent very often, its kind of futile. Maybe now the the rainy season is getting under way, I’ll need it more.
Preventative Health Items/ Meds and toiletries
I’ve developed a reputation for having everything. Really, if it ails you in Yambio, I can probably give you something to help. I’m so glad that I stocked up on medicine and related supplies. Even if I haven’t used it all it gives me a sense of well-being to know that I can self-administer anything from anti-diarrheals to stitches.
I also brought along several water purification items. These are good to have around, and I have purified water (especially when I first arrived) but, it became too much of a bother; and, I was worried about the long-term effects of ingesting those chemicals. Bottled water is readily available- even so, I drink water from our borehole most days. Its clean and comes straight from the water table. Also, I’m taking a kind of ethical stand. We dig dozens of those wells all around the state and tell our beneficiaries that that water is good enough to drink. If we’re doing that, I better be willing to ingest it myself. In four months, I haven’t gotten sick once. (hope I didn’t just jinx myself) I will recommend the SteriPen water purifier. Its fast, reliable, really cool and effective. Probably the only thing I needed.
Finally, basics like toothpaste, deodorant, floss etc are hard to come by here. They are basically only available in Juba, and then the selection is limited and its really pricey. I packed just enough for this trip. Will have to stock up when I’m home.
Entertainment
God bless American TV shows and e-books. My hardrive has been loaded up with shows that are traded around with the other aid workers here. I've been introduced to some really excellent TV (Big Love, Dexter, Mad Men, The Tudors, 30 Rock) and the 45 minutes that it takes to watch one of these shows is a perfect unit of time at the end of the day. I also have to say that the yoga mat was a great thing to bring. I find that I have the time and the need to relax and exercise and do yoga several times a week.
Outside of these things, I wish I'd brought some nicer clothes. Occasionally I have to go to meetings with Governors and Ministers and I only have one appropriate outfit to wear. I spend more time in an office that I expected and this is an issue. I also wish that I had brought more spices/ cooking supplies. Fortunately, when I went to Germany over Christmas, I stocked up. Dehydrated soup mixes and easy mac are lifesavers when I just can't swallow another bite of goat or rice. Tony Chachere's creole seasoning is a big hit with my colleagues. I found some buffalo wing sauce and cake mix in Juba and those were special treats. I also find myself indulging in a spoonful or nutella from time to time. Definitely a travel essential.
I have a list of things to bring back with me after my trip home (only 12 days now!!) It includes more spices, a cake pan, some other cooking supplies, a video camera, and stocking up on the essentials. All this plus a whole bunch of presents for people here.
Hope this wasn't too boring, I'll try to make my next post a tale of high-jinks and equatorial adventure instead of writing about toothpaste :)
Finally, Quiddler, its kind of like Scrabble with cards—we play almost every night. It’s a life-saver.
Blogger has this amazing feature. It tracks all of the page views of people who read my blog. It tells me what kind of search engines they use, which posts they read, and most interestingly, where they are.
As of today, I've had 1745 page views. 1058 from the US (most of these, I'm sure are my father) :)
The rest of the top 10 come from Germany, Kenya, Canada, South Africa, Thailand, Switzerland, France, Slovenia and Niger.
Now, in all of these places, I have family and friends, and it feels good to imagine them reading my blog and being here with me in spirit (thanks Caitlin, Jyn, Lilian, Chantelle, Sherece and Neelsen's and Bauer's worldwide)
Note* I started writing this blog post several weeks ago, and then got caught up and didn't finish- but regardless, I think its a story that deserves to be told, so I've finished it and am posting it now.
_________________________________________________________________________________ The exhilarating and exhausting thing about this job is that it requires me to be part social worker, statistician, social researcher, livestock expert, grant writer, economist, health professional, diplomat, hostess, accountant and administrator. Its Friday night now... this past week has been jam packed with donor visits, assessments, project designs, budget re-designs and evaluations. I've been in UN meetings, planning sessions, workshops, refugee camps, and Land Cruisers. Looks like next week is going to be much of the same. So, this evening, I took some time out to Skype with my people back home. One of my favorite daughters of New Orleans, Madeline B., and I had a great catch-up chat and I promised her that I would post this story. So Maddie, this is for you...
Part of my job is to do assessments. What this means is that I try to determine what the situation is in a particular place, regarding a particular sector of development, for a particular group, at a particular point in time. For example, I would try to answer the question, "right now, in refugee campX, what is the educational situation like for children?" The point of this is to identify needs so that an NGO can secure funding and start to implement projects to address those needs. It might go something like this:
You look at school enrollment rates and notice that girls are dropping out around 5th or 6th grade at much higher rates than boys. You talk to the school principal and teachers, (key informants), the PTA (focus groups) and girls who have dropped out as well as girls who have stayed in school (surveys or focus groups). Through these groups you learn that girls stop going to school when they get their periods. They don't have sanitary materials to use and even if they did, there are no bathrooms for them to use during the school day. Your assessment identifies a problem and the reason for that problem. Then, you work on a project design that suggests interventions that may alleviate the problem-- in this case, providing girls with locally sourced, sanitary supplies and building gender segregated bathrooms at schools.
Right now, I'm in the midst of an assessment of basic service needs in the refugee camps in this state. We started looking at water and sanitation, health, education, HIV/AIDS, and gender-based violence as possible areas of intervention. Several other organizations are working here and they have water and sanitation and gender-based violence covered. So, we looked at health, education and HIV/AIDS interventions.
I could probably write 10 blog posts on this assessment... (And since I wrote this post, I did write several) but for now, I'll just tell you about a portion of the health component...
One of the most basic public health statistics is crude death rate. That is, how many people have died per 1000 people, per year? In the US, this is a very easy number to get. The CDC publishes weekly mortality and morbidity reports (MMWR's) which tell you how many people have died and what the causes of death were. The CDC can do this for a few reasons.
1. They are funded by a government who thinks statistics like this are important.
2. That government has citizens who have the capacity to collect and manage data like that.
3. When people die, we keep records. Bodies are not buried in front yards (in fact, that's illegal). They go to morgues and funeral homes and it’s all neat and tidy and documented.
4. Unless you're trying to keep collecting on Aunt Mildred's social security check, there's no real advantage to NOT reporting a death.
5. The system works at all levels. Town, County, State, Federal etc. It’s organized into a clear, standardized reporting hierarchy.
There is no neat system chronicling the births and deaths of people who live in these camps. If you happen to die in a health clinic run by an NGO, then someone will probably record your passing. But, if you die at home, as the majority of infants, children and women do, then no one documents it. If your family is very poor, they may appeal to the NGO who runs the camp, (this would be an opportunity to collect some mortality data, sometimes it happens, sometimes it doesn’t) to ask for some money to purchase cloth with which to wrap the body and some tea leaves and sugar to serve to mourners who attend the funeral. Then, there would be a 3 day funeral and the body is buried in a grave on the family plot. Zande graves are marked with a domed structure, resembling the tholos tombs at Mycenae, though much smaller in scale. (… even as I write this, I realize how dorky it is that I both know and have used this term… and that visiting Mycenae was one of the coolest things I’ve ever done). The great disadvantage of getting assistance from an NGO for the burial is that they might record it. This means, that when the next month’s rations are distributed, you will be noted as having one less person in your household, and will get proportionally fewer rations. So, if your family can scrape together the money (about 10USD) to buy cloth and tea leaves yourselves, it’s preferable and economically advantageous. Then there is the third category of refugees—those who can manage to find 150 Sudanese Pounds (around $30) and pay to have their loved one transported back to Congo. If you’re paying attention, this should raise all kinds of questions:
First, if Congo is so dangerous that these families had to flee for their lives, who is the poor schnook who is risking a trip, back to bury a body?
Second, there are no real roads between most places in Congo and South Sudan. To get anywhere, one has to travel on long, hot, bumpy and dusty (or muddy depending on the season) roads— on a motorbike. This is difficult enough with one rider-- uncomfortable and dangerous at best with 2 live riders. I can’t imagine the nightmare of transporting a dead body through the equatorial jungle on the back of a motorbike. How is this done?
I have discovered the answers to both of these questions. The first is someone desperate.
The second is that one wraps a body up mummy-style, ties it to a plastic lawn chair, and ties the chair upright on the back of the motorcycle and goes. I was absolutely convinced that someone was pulling my leg when they told me this. I had to ask 5 different people to confirm. And, yes, apparently this is true, unbelievably true.
So, back to my original point... all the skills that we learned in grad school about careful data management, statistical power, confidence intervals, etc. mean jack when you are faced with a corpse on a motorcycle... that's when you have to start getting creative.
Sorry for the lack of photos on this post... I’m swamped at work right now, both of my immediate bosses are out of the office and I’m “Acting” for both of them. Plus a colleague of mine is out, so I’m doing her job and I have to do my own job—This is the kind of stress I was made for!!!! Signing off from Yambio, J
