Thomas and his tribal scars, Bentiu.
I have never been so happy to leave somewhere. The waiting area at the airport in Malakal was a storm of flies, buzzing through the heat that hung heavy in the air. I was on the “standby” list to fly to Bentiu in a UN helicopter, and the prospect of being stuck here, missing the story I was aiming for in South Sudan’s Unity State, was not a pleasant one.
As the chopper rose into the air, the White Nile stretched out below, cutting through this fly-infested town. As we flew west, the small round porthole windows—open at our altitude of 1000 feet—gave onto a sea of green below. The vast swamplands of The Sudd, which swallow up the Nile as it moves north towards Khartoum, stretched into the hazy mist of the day’s deathly heat.
It was the swamps of The Sudd that caused so many problems for the early explorers in the 19th century, trying to trace the Nile to its source. For months they would drag themselves through, meeting unknown tribes, battling the flies, the mosquitos, and the impenetrable sodden land. And now, as South Sudan is on the verge of its independence, it is this same swampland that renders many of the routes impassable during the rainy season, cutting off towns like Malakal from Juba, except by boat.
But from the air, this ocean of green betrayed none of its dangers. Cattle herders moved their livestock across the fields as carrion birds flew over them. A man stood repairing the thatched roof of a lone tokul, the traditional Sudanese mud huts. Isolated isles dotted small, unknown lakes, and a serpentine river slithered to the horizon.
An hour later, the helicopter landed in Bentiu, and I was back amongst the realities of South Sudan, leaving behind the romanticised version from the air.
South Sudan - Losing Power
The frequent buzz of the motorcycle taxis—boda-bodas—of Juba have diminished somewhat since I returned to the South Sudanese capital. The thumping of the generators that power the city are also somewhat more discrete.
For South Sudan is suffering from an acute fuel shortage, caused by the block—I want to say “-ade”, but that engenders an act of war—so we’ll say “-age” of trade routes between the north and south. Despite South Sudan’s impending independence, she still relies on the north for much of her supplies. And despite producing the majority of Sudan’s oil, the South relies on the north for its refinement, and therefore, domestic fuel supply. The conflict in South Kordofan and Abyei are, by no means, helping the situation.
Other routes are open, with neighbouring Kenya and Uganda, but a regional fuel crisis, partly as a result of the conflict in Libya, means that South Sudan’s problems are exacerbated by being at the end of that chain.
The “city power” is virtually non-existent much of the time. It’s source? Large diesel generators near the Nile. And establishments here are worried about their stock of diesel to keep their jennies running.
Getting around is a lot more expensive: petrol, the rarest of fuel-stuffs right now, is going for $10 a litre on the black-market. Many people, and in some cases, organisations, are having to ration their driving. Local watering holes are becoming more and more frequented compared to their farther flung competitors.
But the effect is rather more dramatic on those who have not the capacity to deal with commodity-price increases. Almost all of the products in local markets are imported; South Sudan’s agricultural sector is far from developed. And so with many good coming from neighbouring Uganda, any fuel-price increases mean an increase in food prices. An increase few southern Sudanese can afford.
The Schools are Displaced
It is not only the people of Somalia who are displaced. Schools often move from site to site, as Mogadishu’s conflict flows throughout the city, rendering classrooms once filled with the sound of children void through the fear of incoming shells.
Here, children at Wil-Wal school wait for lessons at a temporary site in Shangani district. The previous site of the school was closed as fighting approached, also displacing many of the families who lived nearby. The school committee is currently looking for a more permanent site for the school, and currently share an area with many several displaced families.
Driving through the streets of downtown Mogadishu, waves lap against the legs of a child playing in the stagnant waters of last night’s torrential rains. Behind him stands the ruins of the Italian cathedral, built over 80 years previously, now a mere shell after an artillery attack from militant group Al-Shebab.
In the crumbling ruins of Vishio Governo, the Italian Governor’s former offices opposite the cathedral, a swathe of ...