Tense Times on the Border

For the last few days I have been flying about the countryside trying to stop people shooting each other. Now, whilst this is an unusual opening for me, it is actually true, and not even exaggerated - also unusual for me. To set the scene:

Mid-October in a town to the north of here called Rumaker, both parties had outposts of soldiers based there, and many of the soldiers just love to carry their weapons around, the weapon of choice being of course, the Kalashnikov, or AK-47. Now soldiers, being soldiers, love a drink (or ten) and because there was a war raging here in this country from 1983 to 2005, it means there was been at least one generation, probably two or three (given the birth and mortality rates in Sudan) that have grown up knowing nothing but war. Add to this potent mixture some religion, and you find that in Rumaker you have people of the same tribe who all believe in a god, it's just that some call Him God, and some call Him Allah. The Muslim Dinka went to fight for the North (Islamic Government), against their own tribespeople and apparently perpetrated some 'not very nice' things in the 20-odd years of war. The strange thing is, they all remained living in the same place after the Peace Agreement, so one imagine that there might be some strained relations in Rumaker.

Strangely enough on one particular night, back in mid-October, a couple of soldiers got a bit drunk at the cinema - as one does. In the darkness, no-one was really sure what happened, but a soldier from one side was shot and badly wounded, sparking a bit of a street battle between the two now rather-drunken parties. The local commander of one side promptly, and sensibly decided to withdraw from the town, given that he was surrounded in a town by a lot more troops from the other side. Running away, this local commander stumbled across another outpost of soldiers from the other side, and another fray broke out, this time resulting in the death of four men from each side, with several now missing or wounded as well. Enter the UN.

The sides were effectively separated, thanks largely in part to the sensible Area Commanders who had no wish to re-start the war again, thanks very much! I must point out here that this area is the border, the much-disputed, often-changed and never decided-upon line drawn by the colonial British in 1956, and the agreed line of demarcation in the Peace Agreement between North and South Sudan. It feels very much like a frontier - more so when one visits three weeks after a bit of a skirmish has happened. The UN made a full investigation, and all manner of teams were dispatched and emergency meetings held to sort out just exactly what had transpired. Of course all of these meetings and investigations mean nothing to the soldiers on the ground - I think they're just worried about what migh have happened to their families, and if they'll get to go home soon.

Now there is a platoon of displaced soldiers from one side, who have been told by their superiors from both sides that's it has been agreed that they are to redeploy back to Rumaker. Needless to say they are a little nervous about doing so. In the meantime, the townspeople have seized their opportunity, and taken the chance to finally get rid of the "traitors" as they are known - the southern Sudanese who fought for the North against their own people. I spent three days flying around in a helicopter between all of the hotspots, once again being used as the 'English-speaking chap' and recording in my little green notebook, all that transpired or was said. Upon our arrival in Rumaker, the entire town was out in force, with banners, drums and songs, not in greeting but in protest against the return of the soldiers to their town - word had gotten out it seems. After listening to the chiefs and the Commissioner, we had a lot more to consider before travelling the next day to 'the frontier'.

We were greeted with the sight of weapon-toting soldiers, not unusual of course, but more forceful and impressive were the signs of readiness of these men. Patrols were moving about, men emerging from the bush as we landed in a hot, swirling, stinging smash of dust, grit and air. The commander was dressed for the field: not wearing his rank, as one does when expecting the enemy to take out the commander to remove effective control. HF (High Frequency) and satellite communications were set-up - these men had an edge of wariness, and readiness, about them, wearing webbing and full magazines, with taped double magazines loaded in weapons which were never far from their hands. The commander maintained good relations with the commander of the other side, a mere 3km away, he said, and truly it was these two men who were keeping the peace between them, by holding their men in check and, hopefully, from doing something stupid (as had happened in Rumaker).

The next day we visited the other side, the "mere 3km away", and found much the same: shallow gun-pits scraped out of the hard, inhospitable dirt; RPG rounds and launcher ready if required, next to the locked-and-loaded heavy machine gun ready in the next pit. However the commander here again was calm, plainly stating his intentions to hold his position and maintain his good relationship with the opposite commander. Both intelligent and well-spoken men, these Commanders clearly had no desire to kick-start another war, not yet anyway. These few days really did feel as if they were spent on a frontier, a no-man's land where the situation was fluid and the tension palpable. Nonetheless, it seems tensions are easing, as we listened to all the parties and returned to Wau to write the report for the powers that be. Eight and a half hours later the report was written, after the world's second longest meeting (the longest was in August, lasting some nine hours as I recall) of the Area Joint Military Committee. At last, after 6 months, I felt I had taken an active part in peace-making and soothing tensions in a place that sometimes feels calm, too calm.

I'm back....though not for much longer.

Yes, it's true, I am back Wau. As per the last post, there will be no more pictures until I get back to Khartoum for my last week, because the computers here are riddled with all kinds of electronic devilry that I don't particularly want to take home with me. Nothing has changed here really, despite what seems a long three weeks away. I was greeted like a returning friend and not so much like someone coming back to work, which was nice. Despite our differences, which have been considerable at times as you know, a rapport has developed amongst us all, a cameraderie that exists between those who live under the same conditions and who have common purpose. We may not all go about that purpose the same way, or indeed in any way, but whether a leader, a follower, a doer or non-doer, a Swimmer or Non-swimmer, we are all here for the same thing in the end.

It's a shame that that end may come sooner than expected. While I was away, one of the parties withdrew from the government, citing that the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) had fallen apart and was not being adhered to. Now, this is not as alarming as it sounds, really. The CPA still exists and, for the most part, is being implemented. There are small signs though that this will not always be so. There were several shootings last week, and several soldiers died as a result of conflict over a small matter between soldiers from different factions - this was all internal, and had nothing to do with UN personnel. Nonetheless, the UN investigated and attempted to clear the air between the parties - it remains to be seen how effective this will be, and how long it will last. I only have three weeks to go on my mission, and only two weeks to go here in Wau - I'm not sure if it's imagined, or if there actually is a barely-perceptible strain running through the town like the flooded river at the moment. Much like the river which has swollen with the northern rains running downstream, the events to the north of this place, in the oil fields and on the disputed borders between North and South Sudan, have swept downstream to give a feeling of slightly-heightened tension, or awareness here. It's like a dog who has pricked up its ears at a sound only it can hear; one gets the feeling of a mental withdrawal of the people - maybe they have heard something we haven't?

I do not write this as a precursor of doom of course, merely to describe what it feels like to be back. I may feel more keenly because I've been away too long, and am imagining things on unfounded fears or over-reading of the information. The weather has dried, and the heat and dust are rising now, and it feels like the calm before a storm. Regardless of the weather though, caution, as always, must be shown in this place. Writing this, I am reminded of when I first arrived and how much I didn't know. Now, I am reminded of how much I still have to learn.

London Calling

Right, so I've been away enjoying the Continent and have not written for ages - I know, but I am decidedly not sorry for having a good time on holidays. Before I finish off the Tales of the Holidays, I have to point out that due to extreme virus corruption of the computers at work, thanks to willy-nilly emailing and irresponsible opening of forwards (one imagines), I will not be putting pictures up for fear of infecting my camera's memory card - yes, this is possible. So it will have to be text only, and I shall attempt to be as textually descriptive as I can, but I know you all have beautiful imaginations, and that's much more fun!

London was, in a word, great. Before I go any further I must categorically own up and say that I have met a girl, I know - shock, horror - will wonders never cease. Before conclusions are leapt to, I did not meet this beauty in London, but in Sudan - more wonder, more shock! Anyway, Jaclyn and I met up in London to spend time in the actual world that exists outside the Sudan, where supposedly-normal people live too. Alas this was hard to find in London - I am quite confused about the state of English in London to be quite honest. We spent the week wandering about, hearing on all sides, what we knew to be English, but could not for the life of us actually understand what was being said. Was this not the birthplace of our language? Do they not protest that no-one else can speak English like they can? Well, "vat's wehl ou(t) of order, innit, yeh?" does not constitute a sentence in my book, but then I only speak Australian don't I?

So, I ended up spending a great week in London, and even saw my brother for the first time in two years, and what a difference two years makes! He's much more grown up, and we had good conversation and got on alot better than we have for probably the last 5 years I think (that's very big brother of me perhaps). He may disagree of course, but it was good to see him after so long. I also managed to see more art at the Courthauld Gallery in Somerset House and the Tate Britain - here ended the Great Art Tour of Europe, but I could basically look at a painting now and say roughly when it was painted, who it was influenced by and maybe even who painted it! Yes, I do like Europe, if only for the cultural aspects; I like it for more than this of course. Visits were also paid to St Paul's Cathedral (best view in London for mine), the Tower of London, Nelson's Column and Trafalgar Square, Hyde Park, and the Imperial War Museum. London had so much to do, and so much to see I think I shall have to return at some point to see the rest.

My favourite 'bit' of London though was undeniably the West End: Covent Garden, Soho, Leicester Square and Piccadilly Circus. Beating, pulsating heart of the theatre in London, it was exciting to wandering the streets of this place, so alive with drama, music and art. We saw Les MIserables at the Queen Theatre and it was excellent for the most part - I found it totally inspiring and am now more firmly resolved to sing, dance and act more to that end. Les Mis is my absolute favourite and to see it on the West End where it started was fantastic - I suppose I'll have to get to Broadway soon too....

Unforgettable Amsterdam

For my birthday, I was in fact, abducted by a Dutch girl, and Canadian girl (friends from Sudan, weirdly enough, who happen to be here on holidays too!) and we proceeded to embark on a pub crawl around the red-light district, of course, where else would you do it in Amsterdam? Nothing dodgy of course, just pubs, but goodness were there some adventures about to be had!

Like, winning the lurid, orange, fuzzy cowboy hat off the Sierra Leonian prostitute, who had it from the very, very, very drunk Irishman on his stag night with his Pommy mates (we rated him as four and a half stars drunk). Meanwhile the Canadian was casually chatting to the pimp, as one does,(we were in an ordinary pub, I stress), whilst the Dutch girl and I made friends with the stag party.

We all went on to the next pub together, all the while trying to win the hat back off the Stag Irishman, not so hard, given his state of intoxication. Everything was closing at 1am, but the Poms had other ideas (I think they'd been there before, once or five....) and we were carted off to a dodgy blues bar, which no-one knew the way to, just the name of the place. Luckily the cab driver also knew the name, and the location of the blues bar, Meloe Melo. Once there, it was shots away (tequila - naturally; jenever - horrid Dutch gin; and something-I-wasn't-too-sure-of - not drug-related though, phew!) and listening to the blues band there, who waivered between bad and not-so bad. Suddenly one of the Poms whips out a harmonica and starts to jam with them - great value! By this time, the Poms and Stag Irishman are officially five-star drunk. Meanwhile, again, Brenda is off making friends, again, this time with the dodgy Arabs, one of whom was even wearing a keffiyah (traditional Arabic headress)! Needless to say they were more than surprised to hear a Dutch girl, a Canadian girl and an Australian guy start conversing in Arabic with them, and then I pulled out my keffiyah too! We may have had a couple of drinks ourselves, but we were certainly only 2 and a half stars drunk, at most. Last drinks called, it was time to cut our losses and escape, trying to untangle ourselves from dodgy Arabs, Poms and Irishman now so drunk they could hardly stand, and still make off with the orange, fuzzy cowboy hat - which we did! Hurrah! Fine adventures in Amsterdam, particularly so on one's birthday. The aim is to extend the celebrations as long as possible, in London, and maybe right through to Sudan.....Proust!

City of Light

I know, I know - it's been ages since I last wrote, but Paris is a busy place you know??

I'll begin with the overnight train ride from Venice - interesting night....It began with cramming six (yes, 6!) people - three Italians, one Senegalese, one Canadian and one Australian - into a space half the size of my cabin in my last ship, and then shaking that tiny box around over 12 hours on the way to Paris, and trying to sleep in said moving conveyance. It really wasn't that bad, but linguistically (yet again) it was highly entertaining. I had been speaking exactly five days of Italian, so not much, yet was the only one who could talk to the three elderly Italians. The guy from Senegal spoke about as much English as I did Italian, so no help there. Luckily, the girl from Canada spoke both English and French, being Canadian of course, so between the two of us we could talk to everyone else, and each other. That meant we could effectively set up the fold-down bunks for the night without using too much sign language. The night passed uneventfully, as we shimmied our way toward Paris, having surrendered our passports to the conductor, with reassurance (and hope!) that they would be returned in the morning.

Sure enough, passport in hand, I arrived to a very wet and miserable Paris. Undeterred, I successfully navigated the Metro of Paris and even found my 'hotel'. I did have a room, and reservation here, but still had to wait two hours to get into said room. Communal toilet for the floor, and two showers for the whole hotel, located conveniently on the third floor (I was on the sixth) meant it wasn't exactly high livin' but at just over thirty euros a night, I certainly wasn't complaining!

Still undeterred, I struck out for Ile de la Cite, and caught my first glimpse of Notre Dame, the Seine and the numerous beautiful buildings in the heart of Paris. Still wet, and raining slightly now, it was not ideal for photography, so it was off to Musee d'Orsay. The best museum I had visited so far, d'Orsay was pretty big! I still managed to see literally everything though, in about three hours, and still have time for contemplation and various musings of Western culture and development - thank you Arts degree!

The next day was massive, and the marvellous Metro was on strike, so it was Shanks pony por moi. I was staying Montmarte, which I loved, and first stop was the glowing Sacre Coeur. The sun was shining first thing in the morning, on a crisp and glorious Parisian autumn day. I then walked the Champs Elysee from Place de la Concord to the Arc de Triomphe, and paid respect to the Unknown Soldier. Then it was to Musee Rodin, which is firmly my favourite museum thus far, before strolling the Jardin de Luxembourg. I then rescued a damsel in distress, as an elderly English lady promptly fell over, just like that, right next to me! I had no idea she was English at the time, so I was trying my half-day's worth of French, finally resorting to English and pleased to hear a recognisable response; she promptly burst into tears. She had bitten through her lip, and there was blood everywhere. She was more upset at the hurt to her dignity than her lip I think, so helping her up, I donated my handkerchief (clean!) to the cause and then the gendarme cavalry arrived, so I was thanked and shooed off in French.

Good turn done for the day, I read in the sun with the rest of the Parisiens in the gardens, feeling very 'on holidays'. Then I wandered down to see the Eiffel Tower, marvel at its construction and dominance of the landscape, and proceeded up to watch the sun set over Paris - absoutely worth the stingingly cold wind and American tourists. Good photos and marvelling-at-beautiful-views achieved, I descended and proceeded to get very lost in Montmarte, trying to get home. I love French Emmaline in Sudan for her map of Paris that she loaned me - it was used numerously, and kept faithfully in my left pocket at all times and responsible for not appearing as 'touristy' as many others - it's all about respect from the French, hence the attempts at Francaise and trying to look like I knew where I was, plus I'm a boy, and have been told I am arrogant....hmmm...anyway, back to Paris:

The next day was Le Louvre - all day. The place is huge - an entire palace dedicated to art, of all kinds, not just French. Its philanthropic views are to be admired from the sheer perspective of scale, let alone their magnificent collection! I spent the entire day at the Louvre, and saw all the 'important' things: La Jaccond (Mona Lisa), Venus de Milo, Noces de Cana and sooo many more - I loved it. I was very, very tired however and was exceedingly glad to find a pub that did mussels (moules) and beer very much like home; and the waitresses spoke English - total bonus.

The last day in Paris, I went to Notre Dame to be amazed by the scale, detail and dark beauty of the architecture and design. Gothic it is, in appearance, in design, but more so in feel. Despite the tourists, despite the stupid souvenir medallion machines, and despite the flash photography, Notre Dame inspires visions of solemn rites, Frankenstein-like ventures under dark-arched vaulted ceilings, and all the angst of 19th Century thought and philosophy - I loved it, clearly. After this experience, I met up with Ron, Leigh, Grant and Libby for a gorgeous lunch and even better catch-up. Friends from China two years ago, they were on the rugby-wine-cheese junket in France, and it was a great afternoon of excellent wine, food and good, fun conversation. The rugby was disappointing as a game, but the atmosphere at the pub, once I got in, was mad and entertaining, if immobile. I couldn't get into the pub until the second half, so I contented myself with the view from the doorway, and made friends with the Persian doorman: former Iranian national champion weight-lifter, former American citizen (pre-September 11) and now Parisan bouncer. Once inside the pub, it was standing shoulder to shoulder with all the other sweaty punters, mostly South Africans, thank goodness. Could not even get a beer, as I couldn't even get to the bar! Tragedy aside, the atmosphere was convivial to put it lightly, despite crying Poms at the finish. On the way home it was chocolat au lait and watching some break dancing on a street corner (yet again establishing that MC Hammer's U Can't Touch This is a classic....) and then home. Train today to the Hague, and more to come I'm sure...enjoy the pictures - au revoir!

Just quickly

Curse these Internet cafes and their borrowed time. I thought it high time to write about my art tour of Europe. Thus far I have visited no less than The Vatican, de Galleria Degli Uffizi, Galleria dell Accademia (Venezia), Palais Ducale (Venezia), Museè d'Orsay, Museè Rodin and Museè le Louvre. I have seen, supposedly, some of the greatest works of art known to cultural mankind, see below. Having said this, I think the French, as much as they have other shortcomings (like their frickin' keyboards!!!) really know how to do art, publicly. The Italians are very pretentious about it all: standing in line for hours, shutting it up indoors, and charging an arm and a leg for it at the same time! The French don't condescend to you, it's just there on display, for everyone to see - I like that very much! So, there's Monet, Manet, Rodin, Veronese, Titian, Tissot, Carpaccio, Caravaggio, Van Gogh, Reubens, Michalangelo, Da Vinci and so many more my head is simply swimming with the beauty of this body of work I have seen this past week.

Last night in Rome, and Florence, and Venice....

I've been rather busy, on Sam's Whirlwind Tour of Europe, I've barely had time to stop for breath, let alone write. So in the last three days, I've had my last nights in Rome, Florence and Venice. I love Italy, love it! I've also been making friends, many random friends - not too sure why, it just happened!

So, there I was just minding my own business on the Spanish Steps in Rome, when a conversation just sort of started between me and the Poms and Italians sitting next to me. Maybe it was the brilliant autumn sunshine, maybe it was the conviviality that just seems to happen on these famous steps, but we ended up chatting for about an hour. As it turns out, they were there for a wedding for one of the Italian blokes, Alfredo, the next day. But the rugby was on that night, so we all met up at the local Irish pub; it's strange houw Irish pubs have become such a global phenomenon. Anyway, we watched the rugby, and had few beers, and became fast friends in the space of two hours - here they are:

I went to Florence the next morning. So different from Rome, and I really wish I had more time to spend there. It is so beautiful, in that country way, and not in the way that the historical metropolis of Rome is. There is the same amount of history in Florence as in Rome, but it seems so much more refined, framed as it is in the churches and the Renaissance which flowered there. I climbed the Duomo (the fourth-largest cathedral in the world) and all four hundred and fifty six steps, and soaked in the view in the crisp Florentian morning air. I also caught up with Chiara, a friend of a girl I work with in Sudan. An absolute scream, we got along very well, and she showed me about the place, particularly Piazza Michelangelo, and here's the view from the Duomo - breathtaking:

By far, the weirdest thing that happened in Florence was running into a random mate from Australia. Rob and I played hockey together, and he was also in the Navy - I hadn't seen Rob for three years! Yet there I was, having been in Florence for all of twenty minutes, and I run into Rob and Jenny his wife, also on holidays. Talk about freaking me out! I queued for four hours to get into Galleria Degli Uffizi, but it was worth it - the art was stunning, and had been there in that place for centuries - such a great heritage, and it makes Australia seem very young, which it is I suppose!

Onto Venice the next afternoon, and I think this has been my favourite stop so far. Venice is so unique, in terms of not only it's one-of-a-kind layout and transportation but also it's independence from Rome as a republic for so long, and the system of government (under the Doge and his Council) that flourished without written constitution for centuries! I have seen more churches here than anywhere else, all of them beautiful, and I have also seen more art here, but from different artists: Titian, Carpaccio, Veronese and Bosch.

But I have seen theses things in form or another in both Rome and Florence. It is the feel of Venice that makes it so special. There is a romance asscociated with this place that is felt rather than seen or noticed. It effects you in how you walk slowly about the place, getting pleasurably lost amongst the labyrinthine pathways of the islands. Bridges are links to neighbourhoods, and offer brief glimpes of the sea and tantalise with the possibility of getting your bearings before plunging into the maze once more, not really noticing being lost.

I also met more random friends here, and we ended up spending the whole time here together - more good times, and much hilarity of course. Three Kiwis, and two Zimbabweans, and many laughs. Might even see them again in London while I'm there. To Paris tonight and more to write from there......