At the De Vinci Restaurant by the Nile. PHOTO| JOHN FOX
I came back from South Sudan with a broken finger, a messed up
right hand, and a dented pride. I tried telling a tall story about it —
that I got caught in cross-fire. But I couldn’t face it out. The truth
is, I simply fell on it — on my hand.
It
happened at Juba Airport when I was on transit from Rumbek to Nairobi. I
tripped down a step that was covered in shadow. As a reflex action, I
pushed back the finger that had dislocated and was lacerated — something
I couldn’t have done if I had thought about it. Fortunately, a UN
driver saw what had happened.
He had a first-aid kit in his car, and he bandaged the broken finger.
My
colleague was saying that we should find a clinic immediately. But I
wouldn’t hear of it. I just wanted to cope with the melee in Juba
Airport, get on the Fly540 flight, and get back to a hospital in
Nairobi.
If you know anything of
South Sudan, I think you will understand why I was prepared to put up
with the pain for a few more hours. (Mind you, the taxi from JKIA to
Nairobi Hospital took twice as long as the flight from Juba to Nairobi.
Juba
Airport is the worst I have ever experienced. It is cramped and
chaotic; it provides minimal information about flights; people don’t
queue; the washrooms are anything but that — they have no water and they
are filthy.
The air is hot and
fetid. And I am not of a size to compete with tall Dinka men in a
pushing competition to get to your check in — especially if you are
nursing a broken finger.
No, not only
Juba Airport but the whole of South Sudan is a sad case right now —
with the ethnic conflict going on, fuelled by historic grievances and
current greeds.
The skeleton of a new
airport at Juba is symbolic of what is happening across the country, a
hope dashed, an ambitious project stalled.
Mind
you, the first overnight stay at Juba was pleasant enough, after
escaping the airport crush. We stayed at Amarat Hotel. It is fairly new;
it is very clean; it has air-conditioning; the water in the showers
runs and is hot; the DSTV works.
It
cost us $120 per night, full board — which was a much better deal than I
had three years back in Juba when I had to pay $180 per night for
staying in what was little better than a wooden garden shed. However,
what the Amarat’s website says about its food is a little overstated:
“The culinary creation from our chef will please any plate, offering
uniquely infused flavours with a modern approach to classic cuisine”.
(The website is www.amaratclassichotel.com)
A sun-downer
In
the evening, we decided to forgo the Amarat’s classic cuisine, by
opting for a sun-downer and dinner at Da Vinci Restaurant alongside the
Nile. It has extended itself a little since I was last there. There are a
few extra tables set lower down at the water’s edge. You can smoke a
hookah, if that is your fancy.
And,
fancy it or not, you are serenaded by the resident Da Vinci Jazz Band.
It has a singer with a gravelly voice like Louis Armstrong. Their
rendition of old Armstrong favourites like What a Wonderful World, Aint Misbehavin and We Have All the Time in the World were excellent. The food was good, too.
But we didn’t have all the time in the world. We had to be off on a UN flight early the next morning to Rumbek.
I
had been there only once before — at a time when there was still
conflict with the North. I was staying then at a UN campsite and paying
$150 a night for sleeping in a tent.
We
were shown the shelters dug below ground, where people used to run when
they heard the drone of an Antonov flying in to drop its bombs. This
time we were staying for a week of work-shopping in the compound of the
Catholic Diocese of Rumbek.
It was
hot, with temperatures rising to 40 degrees. There was no
air-conditioning, and we were grateful for the shade of some trees – and
the cold beers when the sun went down.
(What’s the South Sudan beer?’ someone asked me when we got back.
Tusker, I said.)
The
diocesan compound was peaceful, but not the surrounding area. One night
77 people were killed in a nearby village. It had nothing to do with
the current fighting between Dinka and Nuer people further to the north,
it was yet another round in a series of revenge raids by Dinka
sub-clans. In the morning, some refugees from the raiding came for
shelter in the compound.
Perhaps that was where I caught the bullet that broke my finger.
John Fox is managing director of iDC
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