Both sides of the fence
This second week in Rumbek started bringing up some interesting (at least for me) questions. We’ve started socializing with the (small) international community of Rumbek. Mainly staff of the UNMIS (UN Mission in Sudan), mostly soldiers coming from all over the places and the World Food Program that has here in Rumbek one of its sub-offices for South Sudan. There is not really much of a cultural life going on here and that is why normally the few dozens of expats can choose one of the 3-4 international compounds that fit in the western definition of ‘bars’. Which is not even too bad, considering the part of the world we are in. It is true that in most of these bars the cocktail list is still pretty limited (one of the reasons being that South Sudan seems to lack ANY kind of fresh fruit besides mangos!) but generally speaking you can enjoy a cold drink and sip it on some confortable chairs and – most importantly – in the shadow. Which is not bad afterall. However yesterday I started feeling a bit weird when, just on our way back from town of Yirol (about 80 kilometers south east of Rumbek, 2,5 hour of a very bumpy jeep ride), after all the dust and heat we had been absorbing during the day, we decided to stop by one of the above mentioned western-style compounds for an iced drink before heading home for a quick shower and dinner. Not sure whether it was for all I had seen in the morning in the leprosy/tbc/aids dispensaries we visited, or for that bunch of kids I had been playing with outside of the Yirol hospital, or for the long lines of women standing with their empty gericans and waiting hours before filling them at the well, under a sun that in only 5 minutes was drying up my brain. In any case, whatever the reason was, when I entered one of these compounds yesterday, I felt weird looking at the bunch of noisy white men so seriously involved in their beer games around the swimming pool (see first picture), looking quite stupid while dancing with a glass on the top of their head, trying not to make it fall. And I must admit I felt even weirder when I noticed a bunch of local kids climbing up a tree (see second picture) and try to look out for this amusing scene that was taking place on the other side of the electric wired fence. What will these kids think of those ‘kawagias’ [that’s how white men are called here – I am told that is the Arabic word for ‘merchant’] running half naked and dancing with a glass of beer over their head is a question that leaves me speechless and depressed.