It's Friday around 11 and Charles says, "we're going to drop off the Longan partners at this market... just here" raising his arm and indicating the other side of the hill to the East.
"Great," I said "I'll come too so we can pass by Save the Children on the way back and drop this letter off". The way was pretty dry and as we drove up and down the rocky hills, then through "roads" with corn fields on either side we suddenly reached a road block. A small log has been placed waist-high across the road held up on two Y-shaped sticks. A tukul (the name of the houses around here) is off 100 yards to the right, so we honk the horn figuring someone will come out. Does he want us to pay a tax for passing through his land? Does he want to warn us that there are land mines ahead? The truth is, we'll never know why, because nobody came out and we just removed the trunk, drove through, and then put the trunk back in its place; close the door behind you, right? An hour and a half after we had left the office we stopped. There was no longer a "road" ahead, but just a river of mud. I turned to Charles and said, "that's it". Not in the form of a question, but more to indicate the fact that we had passed "that hill" long ago and I didn't care which market he was referring to, it was time to head back. The driver, Yousif, got out to check out the terrain ahead, but the three members of the CSO who we had taken, were delighted to have gotten this far. Where were we? We hadn't seen a tukul or a goat (only guinea fowl) for 20 minutes at least and it didn't look like there was anyone around for miles. The sun was beating down on our heads and there wasn't a chance of finding a bit of shade, but the three passengers got out of the vehicle and prepared for the five hour journey on foot back home with the two women carrying on their heads bags of goods they had purchased at the market (not the one we never got to). Turns out we had passed the market already, but given the good road conditions Yousif had decided to take them further. Bags and jerry cans filled with 20 liters of water (that's 20 kg) is not all you'll see women carrying on their heads. Tables? fine. Sand in buckets? sure. But the most shocking for me has been seeing a woman carry on her head 1) a baby in a straw basket (Moses-style), 2) stones! or maybe I should say rocks, and 3) a trunk. Yes, a tree trunk a few meters long! This leads me to journey number 2.It was Monday afternoon a little after 2:30 and one of our partners was supposed to be trained in basic farming practices, but the trainer was called by some government officials and was not able to go. We only found out about this in the afternoon, so we were going to tell our partner CSO that there would be no training (they probably would have figured that out already) and that the trainer would be free any day before the 30th. Off we went. Another pretty dry day, so we were safe. On the way we saw a man carrying a rifle, or maybe it was a Kalashnikov, (you can tell I'm not a war veteran nor a hunter) with two animals hanging from the tip of the weapon. "Are those rabbits?" They kinda looked like squirrels too, but I was way off: "wild animals without a tail" David said. Not sure if that is the official latin or greek name, but one thing is for sure, they were going to be the man' dinner: Cena in latin. The road turned into a rocky trail. It didn't look like a vehicle had ever been down this creek-like passage between the hills. James, the Kenyan guy who was also making the trip for the first time (as was I) was quite worried about land mines, but David reassured him that "this area was not affected by the enemy". Yousif kept driving. After a little while James asked, "David, did you come here?" "Once, during the dry season". Why was James asking? Well, not only was there no sign of a vehicle having ever passed there, but we were making our way following what were clearly trails meant for people and maybe bicycles, and after we almost got stuck between two trees and pulling a U-turn I too was wondering if Yousif had any idea where he was going. In Kenya they have the Rhyno Charge where land cruisers are supposed to complete an impossible course through fields, ditches, trees, and rocking terrains. We were essentially on the Sudanese rhyno charge.
My mom probably would have wanted to stop and ask for directions at this point, but since there was no one around, that wasn't exactly an option. Finally David said, "I think I recognize this place". What was he talking about? All these short trees and ditches looked the same. The hills around the clearing looked just as far in all directions no matter how far we drove. Then David turns with conviction and goes "they were waiting under that tree... maybe they went". The tree he was pointing to was a little larger than the others around, but how in the world did we find it? We didn't stop at the tree, but drove another 100 meters. David's time to play tour guide. "The office is somewhere there" he said pointing in the direction of.. well, nothing really, just some more trees. "That's the community contribution", he continued. He could tell James and I looked puzzled, so he clarified, "those stones". They had been collected and brought to this area to be used as building materials. But what about the community? "They are not around, when we used to come, when they'd see a vehicle they'd come running". So nobody running meant nobody around. "The house of the project manager is over that hill". Turns out the location of the "office" was chosen as a central location, but it took people hours to get there. Ok, nobody around, back in the vehicle, time to drive back. But as we drove past THE tree we heard voices coming from the small hill on the right. A man was coming running! He must have been at least 50, more like 60, but he was sprinting regardless. We slowed to a halt as he approached and he shook hands with all of us through the open windows seemingly not out of breath. He was going to be our messenger.
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