I had a chance to visit the Nyori Refugee Camp recently, for Congolese running from the Lord's Resistance Army, and fleeing into southern Sudan. I'll include the article I wrote about it below the slideshow.
***
In the shade of an enormous tree, Kulito Change sells Pure Milk brand Glucose Biscuits, bright-blue Mukwano bar soap, and small pieces of candy. Fifty meters to his left, a long line of men and women wait to register their bar-coded ration cards at a table cordoned off with red-and-white police tape tied to the antenna of a nearby Land Cruiser.
“Two packs for one pound,” he says hesitantly, pointing to the biscuits.
Whether he’s struggling over the English phrase, or the currency exchange isn’t clear – he’s more accustomed to selling in Congolese Francs, and to speaking French or Lingala.
Five weeks ago Change arrived at the Nyori refugee camp from the village of Aba, 18 kilometers from the camp and 10 kilometers outside the Sudanese village of Lasu. He and 6,000 others fled after the Lord's Resistance Army (LRA) attacked Aba in December.
“The LRA came, they destroyed homes, and they killed many people,” he says.
Founded in 1986 under the leadership of Joseph Kony, the LRA has become infamous for widespread atrocities in Northern Uganda, the Central African Republic, Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), and southern Sudan, notably the kidnapping of children to use as soldiers. According to the Swiss NGO Trial Watch, more than 85 percent of LRA fighters are children between the ages of 11 and 15, 40 percent of them young women.
Kony, who claims to be guided by visions instructing him to overthrow the Ugandan government, and to conduct attacks as a means of ‘purification,’ has largely led the LRA away from northern Uganda in recent years. Beginning in December 2008, a joint operation has combined the Ugandan, southern Sudanese, and Congolese military forces in the border region, in an attempt to eliminate the LRA. Despite this, the LRA has attacked numerous times along the DRC and Sudanese borders, in Aba and other communities.
With ongoing attacks in the region, refugees have flooded into southern Sudan, leading to a string of camps along the DRC/Sudan border. According to the United Nations, more than 16,000 refugees have fled Congo, spread across an area of 600 kilometers. Since their arrival, the refugees in Nyori camp have depended largely on the support provided by international agencies, as they were forced to abandon virtually everything as they fled their homes. And while they appreciate the work relief agencies are doing, some wonder if either the camp authorities or the Congolese government are listening to their concerns. Despite the challenge, however, they are moving forward, building what they can in the midst of a violently disrupted life.
Nyori camp, run by NGOs, and coordinated by the United Nations’ organization for refugee affairs, the UNHCR, straddles a small creek. At the bottom of the steep ravine, a newly painted red-and-white wooden bridge connects the two sides of the camp. On either side, the refugees live in small rectangular grass huts, most of which have been reinforced with UNHCR-issued white plastic sheeting.
Jamba Abarago’s small hut sits at the edge of Nyori. An older man, Abarago is the Chef de Camp, the ‘Camp Chief.’ Wearing a faded French Football Association jersey, he sits on a folding chair made from animal hide and wood with a small group of other men and describes the situation. A crowd quickly gathers.
Abarago says roughly 600 LRA soldiers attacked Aba, killed the village administrator and burned numerous buildings and vehicles. Several children were kidnapped; many others were murdered.
“They killed more than 100 people,” he remembers, speaking in French.
According to Gaston Madsona, another refugee, the LRA forces attacked as a group, but quickly split into smaller units.
“They divided up so they could kidnap more of the children,” he says.
After the attack, residents of Aba began to flee.
“We abandoned our manioc and peanut fields,” remembers Samuel Binima, another one of the men gathered around Abarago. The people of Aba and other surrounding communities traditionally rely on agriculture to support themselves, as industry in the region is all but non-existent.
Among the refugees from Aba, there is a pervasive frustration, a sense of ‘why us?.’ People in Nyori camp struggle to understand what would motivate the LRA to attack inside DRC, or anywhere other than northern Uganda. The cross-border region, a small sliver of territory where the Ugandan, Sudanese and Congolese frontiers intersect is largely an unpatrolled and unenforceable area, giving LRA fighters the flexibility to strike when and where they choose, seeking to terrorize the population, and steal supplies.
When the people of Aba fled, some came via the main road from the Congo border, with others making their way through the bush, arriving near the site that would become Nyori camp within a day or two. Once they arrived, UNHCR began working with the refugees to provide basic needs such as food, water, and sanitation.
“The UN helped us with things like jerricans and buckets,” says Change, the young man selling biscuits.
While NGOs have been working diligently at Nyori since the refugees arrival to provide support, distributing buckets, silverware, and plastic sheeting, and other items from large cargo containers at the edge of the camp, some feel they are having a difficult time getting key needs met.
“We don’t have enough food, and it’s causing nutritional problems,” says Logala Bang. “We only have sorghum and beans,”
“The health situation is catastrophic. Many people have died even since we came here,” adds Madsona.
The Aba refugees are concerned about a lack of educational opportunities. Many of the young people who fled Aba were in the middle of the school year, and there is a great deal of concern that the academic year will be an année blanche, a wasted year. Rather than being in classrooms, even makeshift ones, school-age girls gather at the bridge to wash red and white enamel dishes in the creek, while the boys fish for tadpoles with handmade fishing rods built of sticks and small bits of string.
“There are many students who were forced to abandon their studies,” Madsona says.
Having never been in a similar situation., many people at Nyori express a sense of confusion about what they should expect.
“This is the first time I’ve ever been a refugee. I’d like to know what is expected of us, and what rights we have with the UN and with the Sudanese government,” says Emmanual Tamaro Tembe, a young man with short-cropped hair and a pink-and-white striped shirt.
Many of the refugees wonder if anyone in their country is paying attention to their situation, and are concerned that the authorities in Kinshasa, more than 1,800 kilometers southwest, have turned a blind eye.
“Does the DRC government even think of us?” asks Nathaniel Dramule, a refugee sitting next to Abarago, their leader.
“How can we communicate our situation to the Congolese government? They’ve said nothing,” the chief adds.
Despite the challenges they face, the villagers of Aba are hopeful for the future, and ideally would like to return home to Congo, should the situation permit. For the moment, however, they feel safer staying in Sudan, and hope to improve their situation where they can.
“Our desire is to improve the quality of our lives here,” says Dramule.
The refugees have been taking concrete steps to develop the camp where they can. The path leading down to the bridge is a steep dirt trail, one that will undoubtedly become treacherous as the rainy season intensifies. A group of men work with hoes and picks, widening the path, and cutting the outline of steps into the loose soil. Nearby, a man in ripped white tank-top hacks at fallen logs with a panga, a machete, each subsequent ‘thwack’ spitting a spray of wood fragments into the air. The logs will be placed into the newly cut gaps, providing a safer path for the stream of mothers with babies strapped to their backs as they move from one side of the camp to the other.
And while the refugees seem resigned to the thought of remaining in Sudan for the near future, their desire to return home is obvious, something pointed out by one of the youngest members of the group. ““If security is guaranteed, we’ll return,” says Tembe. “For the moment though, we’ll stay here.”
Showing posts with label southern. Show all posts
Showing posts with label southern. Show all posts
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Shalom From Juba?
Shalom, Hello and Salaam from the Shalom Hotel in southern Sudan's hot, dry, dusty, and very expensive capital. Seriously, $150 a night, per person in a room that looks as though it was made from a pre-fabricated trailer, and is missing a shower curtain? Fortunately the organization is picking up the tab...
I'm back in Juba for a few days, while we attempt to sort things out, and figure out what happens next. As you may have already read, the organization was among the 13 NGOs kicked out by the Sudanese government from the country. What this effectively has meant is that they're banned from the north and Darfur, as the south is basically independent from the Khartoum government. The southern government, based here in Juba, has made it clear that they want the organization (along with the others that were kicked out of the north but have programs in the south) to stay, and keep working.
It seems as though the dust is beginning to settle, in a sense. It looks as though I'll be staying here as planned, but not necessarily going where I originally thought I'd be. Originally, I was scheduled to be going a little farther north, into what are called (depending on whom you ask) the 'transitional areas,' '3 areas,' or 'provisional areas,' where the north and south collide. Now, it looks like that won't be happening, at least not right away.
I left Yei yesterday morning, taking my first flight on the World Food Program's Humanitarian Air Service. When we arrived at the dirt airstrip on the edge of Yei, I couldn't help but notice a big banner on the side of the 'terminal' (a two room building with a large hanging scale, a few official-looking pieces of paper on the door, and a guy sweeping the floor with a grass broom) for the Delta Connection Frequent Flyer program. Seriously. Not the commuter airline based in Atlanta you might be thinking of though, but Delta as in 'Nile Delta,' and 'Connection' as in a Kenyan airline flying between Nairobi, Entebbe, Juba, and a handful of other places, including Yei. The thought of earning frequent-flyer miles seemed a bit ridiculous, but hey, why not?
Shortly after we arrived, a large group of large Americans arrived, complete with heavy bags, strong Tennessee accents, and some serious Jesus-y fervor. I saw a church nametag, and although they seemed friendly, I was glad they were getting on another flight (yes, more than one airline flies to Yei). While they waited for Eagle Air to take them back to Entebbe, the tiny WFP-HAS plane arrived. Stopping in the dirt maybe 50 meters in front of us, we hauled our bags over and stuffed them into the small luggage bins underneath the single-engine compartment, but only after verifying that our names were on the passenger manifest. Climbing on board, the pilots asked us to move as far to the front as possible, meaning that I was sitting directly behind the pilot, close enough to read the altimeter on his instrument panel. After buckling in and bouncing over a few smallish puddles, the pilot revved the engine, and we raced down the dirt strip, taking off over the trees and grass.
I've been on countless planes over the years, but this was a very different experience- there was a small window almost directly at my feet, a little disconcerting. Flying in planes even smaller than your average regional jet or turboprop in the States feels odd, as you get a much clearer sense of motion, including the side-to-side and rolling sensations that a bigger jet might mask. Fortunately the flight was very smooth, and as a bonus, offered a pilot's-eye (or perhaps pilot's shoulder) view as we touched down in Juba.
Juba is hot. Much hotter than Yei. It's also dirtier, with plastic bottles and cans everywhere, barbed-wire compounds, and the occasional enormous villa, or modern-looking gas station. Supposedly it's one of the world's most expensive cities, which seems crazy until you consider the fact that it's landlocked, full of 'rich' foreigners, and has been until recently the center for any number of battles. Can't say I blame people for wanting to an extra Sudanese pound or two (or a few hundred), but wow.
To get to the Shalom Hotel, just a few minutes from our office, you clatter along a rutted, dusty road, lined with a constant stream of bottles and cans, the odd piece of livestock, and hand-painted signs screaming things like "TRADITIONAL DOCTOR HE CURES OVER 70 DISEASE! HIV/AIDS, MALARIA, DEMENTIA, WOMEN WHO CANNOT PRODUCE, MAN WHO CANNOT PLEASE HIS WIFE" and more. The hotel is basic, as I mentioned, run by a family of Ethiopians, one of whom has perhaps the most perfect gheri-curl I've seen- I think his head might explode from all the product in it if someone lit a cigarette within a few meters. On the plus side, the rooms have blessedly cool air-conditioning, WiFi access (very slow, but functional), and surprisingly good food in the restaurant, including very authentic Ethiopian dishes with freshly-baked injera bread. Given the name of the place, I can't help but wonder if the family has some sort of connection to Ethiopian Jewry, although this seems unlikely, as Sudan isn't the most hospitable to Jews. I guess the south is different, but still. As always, I have to wonder about why anyone would want to leave a more developed, nicer place like Ethiopia to come here and open a restaurant and hotel, but one needs only look at the room rates and the prices on the menu to understand; I'm sure they're making money hand-over-fist around here.
It looks like I'll be in Juba through Tuesday, and then.... back to Yei. Apparently a large group of refugees has just crossed the border from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), and the UN is setting up a camp very close to Yei. The plan is to go there and speak with some of them, writing stories (which I'll hope to publish on this page). Things could change again, of course, but for now, that's the plan. I'll try to get some photos posted soon, and as always, welcome your thoughts in the comment section below...
I'm back in Juba for a few days, while we attempt to sort things out, and figure out what happens next. As you may have already read, the organization was among the 13 NGOs kicked out by the Sudanese government from the country. What this effectively has meant is that they're banned from the north and Darfur, as the south is basically independent from the Khartoum government. The southern government, based here in Juba, has made it clear that they want the organization (along with the others that were kicked out of the north but have programs in the south) to stay, and keep working.
It seems as though the dust is beginning to settle, in a sense. It looks as though I'll be staying here as planned, but not necessarily going where I originally thought I'd be. Originally, I was scheduled to be going a little farther north, into what are called (depending on whom you ask) the 'transitional areas,' '3 areas,' or 'provisional areas,' where the north and south collide. Now, it looks like that won't be happening, at least not right away.
I left Yei yesterday morning, taking my first flight on the World Food Program's Humanitarian Air Service. When we arrived at the dirt airstrip on the edge of Yei, I couldn't help but notice a big banner on the side of the 'terminal' (a two room building with a large hanging scale, a few official-looking pieces of paper on the door, and a guy sweeping the floor with a grass broom) for the Delta Connection Frequent Flyer program. Seriously. Not the commuter airline based in Atlanta you might be thinking of though, but Delta as in 'Nile Delta,' and 'Connection' as in a Kenyan airline flying between Nairobi, Entebbe, Juba, and a handful of other places, including Yei. The thought of earning frequent-flyer miles seemed a bit ridiculous, but hey, why not?
Shortly after we arrived, a large group of large Americans arrived, complete with heavy bags, strong Tennessee accents, and some serious Jesus-y fervor. I saw a church nametag, and although they seemed friendly, I was glad they were getting on another flight (yes, more than one airline flies to Yei). While they waited for Eagle Air to take them back to Entebbe, the tiny WFP-HAS plane arrived. Stopping in the dirt maybe 50 meters in front of us, we hauled our bags over and stuffed them into the small luggage bins underneath the single-engine compartment, but only after verifying that our names were on the passenger manifest. Climbing on board, the pilots asked us to move as far to the front as possible, meaning that I was sitting directly behind the pilot, close enough to read the altimeter on his instrument panel. After buckling in and bouncing over a few smallish puddles, the pilot revved the engine, and we raced down the dirt strip, taking off over the trees and grass.
I've been on countless planes over the years, but this was a very different experience- there was a small window almost directly at my feet, a little disconcerting. Flying in planes even smaller than your average regional jet or turboprop in the States feels odd, as you get a much clearer sense of motion, including the side-to-side and rolling sensations that a bigger jet might mask. Fortunately the flight was very smooth, and as a bonus, offered a pilot's-eye (or perhaps pilot's shoulder) view as we touched down in Juba.
Juba is hot. Much hotter than Yei. It's also dirtier, with plastic bottles and cans everywhere, barbed-wire compounds, and the occasional enormous villa, or modern-looking gas station. Supposedly it's one of the world's most expensive cities, which seems crazy until you consider the fact that it's landlocked, full of 'rich' foreigners, and has been until recently the center for any number of battles. Can't say I blame people for wanting to an extra Sudanese pound or two (or a few hundred), but wow.
To get to the Shalom Hotel, just a few minutes from our office, you clatter along a rutted, dusty road, lined with a constant stream of bottles and cans, the odd piece of livestock, and hand-painted signs screaming things like "TRADITIONAL DOCTOR HE CURES OVER 70 DISEASE! HIV/AIDS, MALARIA, DEMENTIA, WOMEN WHO CANNOT PRODUCE, MAN WHO CANNOT PLEASE HIS WIFE" and more. The hotel is basic, as I mentioned, run by a family of Ethiopians, one of whom has perhaps the most perfect gheri-curl I've seen- I think his head might explode from all the product in it if someone lit a cigarette within a few meters. On the plus side, the rooms have blessedly cool air-conditioning, WiFi access (very slow, but functional), and surprisingly good food in the restaurant, including very authentic Ethiopian dishes with freshly-baked injera bread. Given the name of the place, I can't help but wonder if the family has some sort of connection to Ethiopian Jewry, although this seems unlikely, as Sudan isn't the most hospitable to Jews. I guess the south is different, but still. As always, I have to wonder about why anyone would want to leave a more developed, nicer place like Ethiopia to come here and open a restaurant and hotel, but one needs only look at the room rates and the prices on the menu to understand; I'm sure they're making money hand-over-fist around here.
It looks like I'll be in Juba through Tuesday, and then.... back to Yei. Apparently a large group of refugees has just crossed the border from the Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC), and the UN is setting up a camp very close to Yei. The plan is to go there and speak with some of them, writing stories (which I'll hope to publish on this page). Things could change again, of course, but for now, that's the plan. I'll try to get some photos posted soon, and as always, welcome your thoughts in the comment section below...
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Yei! Hooray?
I'm listening to a Rachel Maddow podcast, chatting on Facebook, and had a dinner of chapatis, avocado salad, chicken and lentils about an hour ago. Just watched President Obama's news conference on BBC. That all seems very 2009 American, right?
...Except for the fact that my house is a canvas safari tent, dinner was cooked by Sudanese women with babies on their backs, and the podcast took about 45 minutes to download on the satellite connection.
I'm in Yei, southern Sudan (don't capitalize the 's' in southern, by the way, as it could imply support for secession in the 2011 referendum). It's about 160km southwest of Juba, very close to the borders of Uganda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
I've been here a few days now, mostly doing orientation stuff, but getting ready to start work soon. I'll be working in the Information Management Unit for the organization looking at the impacts of economic recovery programs. Mostly it's been an opportunity to meet other members of the staff who happen to be passing through at the moment, find out details of things like the IT policy, and in general, getting adjusted to life here. I'm only sticking around Yei until Tuesday though, then it's back to Juba for one night, and onward to a town called Wunrok, still in the southwest of Sudan, but much farther north than here. I'll be traveling by small plane, thanks to World Food Program's Humanitarian Air Service, which has a fleet going around to tiny airstrips across the region. This is a huge help, as our initial trip from Juba to Yei was rough, to put it mildly. Although it was only perhaps 50 kilometers for the first leg, from Juba to a town called Lainya, the dirt road was full of holes and troughs so big as to feel like each could swallow our Land Cruiser. From Lainya the road became significantly better, still dirt, but smooth enough that I could hold my head in place without feeling as though my neck would snap if I turned the wrong direction.
Our compound in Yei is very basic, but functional. There are a series of concrete buildings with offices for Logistics, Finance, HR/Administration, and my department, Information Management. Behind the offices are a long row of green canvas 'safari tents,' heavy duty shelters built on concrete footings, with mosquito netting on the windows, and locks on the zippers. Off to the side in an enclosed concrete building are three shower stalls (with varying degrees of pressure), a pit latrine, and two Western-style toilets. The entire compound is ringed by a fence of sharp sticks and wire, giving a view of the huts just beyond. It's definitely nothing special, but it's at least functional. There are a few extra creature comforts that make it feel different from my Peace Corps experience- our common dining room has DSTV, a South African satellite network, a badminton net, and we have internet access via another satellite parked in the middle of the lawn. It's slow, but being able to update a blog like this, or browse Facebook is a big step from anything I had when I was teaching English in Gounou-Gaya.
As I imagined it would, life feels a lot like it did in Chad here. It's hot and humid, and at the risk of falling into clichés, people seem very friendly. Except for Lydia, the one-year-old who rides around on the back of one of the housekeepers- I think she hates me. She wails every time I come close... Naturally, I know what the issue is- she hates imperialist American foreign policy.
Seriously, I can only imagine how alien a white person must look to a baby who has only ever seen faces so black that anything this side of ebony would be bizarre. From what I've seen so far, many southern Sudanese people's skin is black to the point where it almost takes on a bluish hue. It'll be interesting to see how that changes as I move a bit farther north, into Dinka territory.
I'm planning on heading into town this afternoon, and I'll try to get a few pictures uploaded soon. Looks like it might be awhile before I have a phone, so go ahead and email, or just find me on Skype (my username is nathanieltishman). Hope things are well wherever you are, and look for another update before long.
...Except for the fact that my house is a canvas safari tent, dinner was cooked by Sudanese women with babies on their backs, and the podcast took about 45 minutes to download on the satellite connection.
I'm in Yei, southern Sudan (don't capitalize the 's' in southern, by the way, as it could imply support for secession in the 2011 referendum). It's about 160km southwest of Juba, very close to the borders of Uganda and the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
I've been here a few days now, mostly doing orientation stuff, but getting ready to start work soon. I'll be working in the Information Management Unit for the organization looking at the impacts of economic recovery programs. Mostly it's been an opportunity to meet other members of the staff who happen to be passing through at the moment, find out details of things like the IT policy, and in general, getting adjusted to life here. I'm only sticking around Yei until Tuesday though, then it's back to Juba for one night, and onward to a town called Wunrok, still in the southwest of Sudan, but much farther north than here. I'll be traveling by small plane, thanks to World Food Program's Humanitarian Air Service, which has a fleet going around to tiny airstrips across the region. This is a huge help, as our initial trip from Juba to Yei was rough, to put it mildly. Although it was only perhaps 50 kilometers for the first leg, from Juba to a town called Lainya, the dirt road was full of holes and troughs so big as to feel like each could swallow our Land Cruiser. From Lainya the road became significantly better, still dirt, but smooth enough that I could hold my head in place without feeling as though my neck would snap if I turned the wrong direction.
Our compound in Yei is very basic, but functional. There are a series of concrete buildings with offices for Logistics, Finance, HR/Administration, and my department, Information Management. Behind the offices are a long row of green canvas 'safari tents,' heavy duty shelters built on concrete footings, with mosquito netting on the windows, and locks on the zippers. Off to the side in an enclosed concrete building are three shower stalls (with varying degrees of pressure), a pit latrine, and two Western-style toilets. The entire compound is ringed by a fence of sharp sticks and wire, giving a view of the huts just beyond. It's definitely nothing special, but it's at least functional. There are a few extra creature comforts that make it feel different from my Peace Corps experience- our common dining room has DSTV, a South African satellite network, a badminton net, and we have internet access via another satellite parked in the middle of the lawn. It's slow, but being able to update a blog like this, or browse Facebook is a big step from anything I had when I was teaching English in Gounou-Gaya.
As I imagined it would, life feels a lot like it did in Chad here. It's hot and humid, and at the risk of falling into clichés, people seem very friendly. Except for Lydia, the one-year-old who rides around on the back of one of the housekeepers- I think she hates me. She wails every time I come close... Naturally, I know what the issue is- she hates imperialist American foreign policy.
Seriously, I can only imagine how alien a white person must look to a baby who has only ever seen faces so black that anything this side of ebony would be bizarre. From what I've seen so far, many southern Sudanese people's skin is black to the point where it almost takes on a bluish hue. It'll be interesting to see how that changes as I move a bit farther north, into Dinka territory.
I'm planning on heading into town this afternoon, and I'll try to get a few pictures uploaded soon. Looks like it might be awhile before I have a phone, so go ahead and email, or just find me on Skype (my username is nathanieltishman). Hope things are well wherever you are, and look for another update before long.
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