No roads

Other than eating white ants and hunting scorpions, what is Jonathan actually doing, you might ask. Well, first let me describe the conditions under which we try to work. It's the rainy season. That means that almost every day it rains. So what? Well, I woke up this morning and it was cloudy, which means no power. We had a generator, but it broke down and was flown out last week, but who knows when it'll be flown back. So that's why we have to rely on the solar panels 100%. So we had planned to do all kinds of things on the computer, but that didn't happen. We talked to a man from the Norwegian Church Aid yesterday and were supposed to meet him at 9 am, but turns out he left town this morning, so the meeting was postponed til 4:30 pm. No power and no meeting. In the meantime our IT guy was supposed to be conducting a computer training for some of our partners organizations, but without power there wasn't going to be much of a training. So no power, no meeting and no computer training. The morning flies by... I'm not sure what we got done, but all of the plans we had yesterday evaporated into nothing. I talked to David for a while, who reassured me, "No hurry in Africa". He also informed me that wives are quite cheap here in the Nuba Mountains, only 2 cows! But let me tell you about the afternoon. Just before lunch the sun came out and there was hope that we could get some work done on the computer and make our 4:30 meeting. We got some work done on the computer (almost two hour's worth!), but then the wind started blowing. Sand was blowing through the nets on the windows (there is no glass) and the rain was coming, so we had to close all the computers and hide everything in the drawers and cabinets because the roof leaks and the wind can blow the rainwater in. So we sat and watched the trees bend and the sheets of rain fall all around us. By four it had all stopped and we were ready to go to our 4:30 meeting. We all get into the vehicle and headed out. Let me just add that we have no spare tires. We put in an order a while back, but a bridge collapsed in Kenya and the vehicle that is supposed to be bringing them our way is stuck. Stuck is exactly where we don't want to end up, but everything except for the airstrip is at least 5 km and 3 potential streams away. Some are streams, but others would be insulted to be called that, because they become true rivers, and as you see the brown water appear from nowhere and fill the dry bed, as if someone up in the hills has just turned on the faucet, you can imagine the Pharaoh and his men getting washed away by the waters in the Exodus, only a few hundred miles North of here. After miraculously making it across dangerous waters and reaching our meeting point, only to find that the people we were supposed to meet were not there, we proceeded towards the center of "town" hoping to meet someone else instead. To get there, however, we would have to cross real rapids. People were standing on either side of the "river" wondering how long they would have to wait until they'd be able to cross. Some ventured across on foot, with the water reaching almost their waist, and with their bikes being carried over their heads. They probably can't swim, so I'm not sure what they would have done if the water had swept them away. There were 3 other vehicles on our side (a tractor, a UN jeep, and a big truck), and a pickup on the other side. Nobody wanted to test the waters, but eventually somebody did, and barely made it across as their pickup was nearly submerged. I'm here writing this, which kinda kills the suspense, but we took a few of the "pedestrians" along with us for the ride and made it across. (In case you were wondering, we didn't charge for the ferry service.) Our second attempt for a meeting also failed as we found nobody in the PACT office, and to top it all off we didn't even catch the guy who had to sign a contract with us... he apparently ran home to avoid the rain. So we turned around and went home, although we knew that there would be more unknowns ahead of us. Now remember, there are no roads in the Nuba Mountains. I know, you must be thinking that I'm exaggerating, but it's true, there are no roads, not even dirt roads. On our way home we came across what you might call a road block. We had made our usual S-shape route around the usual tree when suddenly we could go no further, as the way we usually would take was blocked by branches and tree trunks, which had purposely put there. There were some men standing nearby and their message was "we are cultivating this land". Waru, our program manager, was shocked: "This is the main road, I thought!" he said confused. "Since 2001" replied another one of our staff. Well, so they thought, but they had forgotten that in the Nuba mountains there are no roads. They are both Sudanese, but from the South, not from here. When I heard Waru ask "did they give prior notice" I couldn't help myself and exploded into laughter. I asked Waru the other day why all this former soldiers are still carrying their weapons around with them everywhere they go; he replied "they are still soldiers". So of course we weren't going to start an argument. We turned around and found another way through, laying the ground for what might become the new main road.