Dinner time in Rumbek prison

An unusual Sunday afternoon
Marco is an Italian student of human rights and he's writing his thesis on the IDPs (Internally Displaced Peoples) of South Sudan. He came to Rumbek to interview some of those who have returned to their native area (so called ‘returnees’) and to collect some data concerning the returnees of this area. We often bump into each other on Rumbek’s main street as we both try to escape from our respective compounds and breath some ‘fresh’ (it’s just a figure of speech...) air outside. This morning I bumped into him after the mass. While chatting he tells me that in the afternoon he will be going with a group of people from the Diocese to visit Rumbek prison. I don’t have to think about it too much and I tell him that I would like to join. I have never visited a prison in my life, plus for the past few days I have been in the mood for ‘challenging’ myself a little bit and this might be a good occasion to do so.

We meet at 4,30 in front of the prison – no more than 300 meters away from my own (golden) prison. The person who is accompanying us has been granted a special permission for us. One of the guards, a young man called Johnson walks us to the males' wing of the prison. I have to bow my head to enter a very low iron gate. A noisy crowd of approximately 100-150 men seems very curious and excited at the arrival of these 2 kawagia (whites) visitors on a Sunday afternoon. We are clearly unexpected guests today. As it often happens here we are very soon surrounded by a crowd of people eager to shake hands, ask our names, etc. I try to smile although I realise that around me now there are also lots of kids.

I ask Marco how old he thinks these kids are. 14, maybe 15 year old boys together with much older inmates. It’s difficult not to wonder what this implies. We go on walking, by now more and more people have noticed the two foreigners who are walking around the courtyard of Rumbek prison. I notice one man who is struggling to drag himself towards us. He is limping and making tiny steps. As he gets closer I realize his legs and ankles are tied with a big chain. A little farther on I see 2 men who are chained together around their knees (!). I am amazed by the way they do exactly the same steps in order to move. I start feeling puzzled. I discretely ask Johnson why the legs of the first man are chained. He answers me that such is the punishment for those who have commited murder. And then he explains to me that those two guys who are now chained together once were fighting on two opposite sides. For a moment I am speechless. Some strange flash backs from high school literature course pop up in my head. Dante’s Divine Comedy, and the terrible punishments of the 'Inferno' (for the Italian readership: il contrappasso*). But here in Rumbek this is not literature and these two men are real and they're facing me, right now.

We go on shaking hands and answering the usual questions for about 5 minutes, until we see people running and starting to shout. In a corner of the big courtyard some of them are fighting. I see some hands punching, some stones are even starting to fly around, dozens of inmates flocking to the spot where somebody is being beaten up. Not even a minute later the guards start entering the courtyard. They have whips (!), sticks, and guns obviously. Johnson tells me and Marco to leave. ‘Time is not good, come back another time’. We look down and quickly proceed to the gate.


(...)

Me and my Italian fellow are still a bit ‘shaken’ by this unexpected development. In my head now I have the images of that day in June during the riot at the Ministry of Education. Like that day I am amazed (scared) by how rapidly situations can change here and, even when there is no apparent sign, you can find yourself in the midst of great troubles.

Inmates in Rumbek prison's female wing

However as we both still feel like continuing our visit we ask permission to visit the women’s wing of the prison. The guard has no objections and – as he seems more ‘relaxed’ that the previous one – I dare asking him to take some pictures. And he nodds his head telling me that it’s ok. The first thing I see while entering the gate is a bunch of 40-50 bowls containing sorgum flour soup that has just been cooked. Later somebody explains to me that is the food for the male inmates to whom the women prepare food everyday. A group of 20-30 of them is sitting outside. Some of them have very young babies that they are still breastfeeding. Most of them have been caught fighting, commiting adulter, or have murdered. They look at me, the guard explains to them I am visiting and encourages me to ‘tell them something’. I have no clue what to tell them as I am already trying to ‘digest’ a bunch of very mixed feelings and sensations. I have to improvise, I wasn't prepared for this. I explain to them I am working in Rumbek for a few months, that we are building a vocational school where hopefully soon their kids, brothers, relatives will be able to learn a job. They seem interested, the even clap their hands. I sit down, look around. There are a lot more babies than what I saw at the beginning. Some inmates are still cooking sorghum in big pots, then they pour it in those bowls lined up in the courtyard (see photos). All around I notice several vultures flying around, some of them land on this sort of 'open' kitchen. They are huge, ugly, and look voracious. All of a sudden I feel that the look of those huge and scary-looking birds in that very place is about to make me feel sick. I grind my teeth, try to look elsewhere.



Our time is almost up, the inmates need to go bring the food to the men. They line up very neatly and proceed to the other wing of the prison as they cross the gate. With Marco we look at this strange scene from the outside. The car and the people we came with are waiting for us however we decide it’s better to walk. We both need a bit of time to 'digest' what we’ve just seen and the swimming pool party which as every Sunday afternoon is taking place in my compound, right across from my appartment, is not the best place to do so.


Female prisoners bring food to the men

* In the first part ('Inferno', the Hell) of 'The Divine Comedy', the Italian author Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) explains the concept of 'contrappasso' as a type of punishment directly related to the sin that the souls of the Hell committed during their lifetime.

The blog therapy

I am sitting on a sofa with my faithful Mac, sipping my evening mint tisane from an Ikea blue mug while I listen to Air’s Walkie Talkie album. The A/C is on and these halogen lamps make a very cosy atmosphere. I am thinking that right now I could be pretty much anywhere…somewhere in England or in a nicely furbished apartment of the French countryside. Instead I am in Rumbek, South Sudan. Yes, I am back to Rumbek after quite a long break (5 weeks) spent traveling all across Italy from Trieste to Catania (with many stops in between).
I am looking at the pics of the month I got to spend in Europe. Paris and some quite nostalgic dejà vus, some very sweet (and romantic) Roman sunsets under the pine trees of Villa Borghese, the blue sea of Sicily, the white marble of San Giorgio Maggiore basilica in the Venetian lagoon. There is a certain kind of ‘melancholy’ tonight although even more that melancholic I still feel ‘spaced out’ and I have hard time convincing myself of where I am right now.

This time coming back to Rumbek has not been easy. At all. And, although I was expecting it, I couldn’t have guessed it would be so tough. It’s been already 3 weeks that I am back here but I’ve struggled a lot to re-adjust myself to this place.

I can already imagine the puzzled expression of many of you who by now will be confusedly wondering what am I doing on a comfy sofa typing with the lights and even the A/C on. Indeed quite a few things have changed since I left Rumbek in June. I am no longer living under a iron-sheet roof room without electricity, with no furniture and with one latrine shared with 10 people. Our generous government decided to offer us a top-class accommodation in Rumbek’s top compound for expats. We have a first class apartment, full boarding, full optionals (electricity 24/7), swimming pool, and an almost first-world office (if it wasn’t for the creepy insects that get in at night). Outside in the parking lot all you can see are the shining white UN land cruisers and the only locals who are around are security guards, movers, or cleaners.

For sure my difficult re-adjustment has had something to do with my new lifestyle in this ‘golden cage’ surrounded by electric wired fence all around. Many days I get to spend long time sitting behind my desk in the office and taking full advantage of the permanent internet connection (well at least this time to do my work I don’t have to line up to use a computer in a stinky cybercafe, what the hell!).

(…)

Spending so many hours in front of a computer, I start wondering if I am turning into an ‘office animal’ again, in other words my previous life that made the ‘crazy’ Sudan plan start. This morning my sense of ‘claustrophobia’ is worse than in the past days. So, before I get another anxiety attack like yesterday afternoon, I decide to take a look at the world beyond the fence. I ask Ata, the driver, to take me for a little tour by car. Outside of the car windows Rumbek is drowning in the mud. We are at the peak of the rainy season. It rains almost everyday for 2-3 hours. And I have never seen such a huge amount of water falling in such a little time. There are ponds everywhere and some bright green tall herbs sprouting everywhere. Rumbek looks very different from the dry, red soil, dusty and burning hot landscape I remember.
Some naked kids are inside one of these ponds, by the main road. They are bent on their knees and moving their hands and they seem to search for something in this muddy and stinky water. Five minutes later I see some other kids filling up two cookings pots with that water. I feel a ‘knot’ at the top of my stomach. This is the place I left a month ago. Rumbek is welcoming you back, Gaetano.

It happens pretty much to all of us to ask ourself ‘what are we doing here?’. And it did happen to me before in several moments of my life. But when it happens to you while you are sitting in a crappy car and praying that also this time you will not get stuck in the water or annoyed by some drunk soldier who are insistently asking you to give them a ride somewhere then…it’s a bit different. And what is even harder is to explain to yourself why all of a sudden you seem to have no clue of what you are doing and looking for in muddy South Sudan.


Stormy days in Rumbek...


After having spent a couple of miserable days asking myself these questions I decide it’s about time I go talk to somebody. Maybe someone who has seen me here before…perhaps this person might help me remember who I was, what I was doing, what was I searching for. Actually it’s like I have an amnesia. I need something or somebody who can ‘switch’ something on inside my head and help me connecting the dots.
I decide to go see Orla, my friend Irish sister with whom I spent 3 weeks in the midst of the bush, in May. Orla is a ‘tough’ girl, I am sure she will challenge me if I need it. I need it – and she happens to be the right person in the right place and time. Her blue eyes get me off the wall. ‘Here it’s not about what you do, it’s about how this crazy place changes you. It’s not about your job, it’s about doing something with yourself. This is your golden opportunity, don’t loose it’. Few words are enough to make me realize that it was worthed coming back to Sudan even just for the amazing people I have come across here. Sometimes I call it my ‘Rumbek family’ and that must not be by accident. While chatting I confess to Orla that a few days ago I was thinking about quitting the mission, packing my things and back to Europe. ‘Don’t try to leave or I come and get you off that f***ng plane!’ Yes, in crazy South Sudan some sisters even say swear words. Thank God.
I tell the driver to go back to the compound without me. Today I feel like walking. I am thinking of Orla’s words and I feel I need to get my shoes muddy again, to shake the hands of all these kids who are running after me, to feel the dust sticking on my face. I need to refind the ‘real’ Rumbek and see what changed in the past month.

Back home I suddenly remember I had asked Massimo, an Italian doctor who works near Rumbek to come see me for a check up. Besides my mind it looks like this round also my body has had hard time re-adjusting to South Sudan. Some still unknown bacteria have been enjoying life in my intestine for the past 10 days and I ask Massimo to take a look at me. He gives me some strong antibiotics to try to get rid of these bacteria which are seemingly feeling very confortable in my intestine. I probably need some tests but here in Rumbek the health facilities are non existing. He says if I am not well I will have to fly to Nairobi for a serious screening. Now I start wondering if I will have to take that plane to Nairobi for real.