This Week (Part 2)

 THURSDAY

Off the motorcycle at last! Although, I kind of missed it. We jumped in the car and drove for 4ish hours into the bush. Of course, this was after a crazy frustrating morning when I didn’t have the sticker I needed to put on the hand pump for our donor’s benefit, even though I had spent the previous night and that morning reminding everyone. It was considered ‘not really important’ by everyone except me, and I ended up having to peel off a sticker on another hand pump nearby our compound to use on this far away one. We can hop over to this nearby hand pump and put a new one on whenever we need to. In fact, we’d already done that when they peeled away the first one. We’d gone back, and Repent, while sticking on the new sticker, seriously informed the villagers of the importance of NOT PEELING the sticker off again. So when we went back to peel it off again it made something of a stir.

On Wednesday they were drinking this.

When we arrived at the village, we were greeted by crowds singing and playing the drums and shaking rattles, so excited to have this new hand pump. We made our speeches (I made sure to say, “I don’t have a lot I want to say today” and then proceeded to speak for 2 hours because I pay attention to cultural cues), prayed out prayers, did our ipad interviews, and everyone was very excited. The chief showed me where he would build my house if I would agree to move into their village, and an excited little old lady told me that she would find me a husband (I have heard that before, but so far no one has managed it). They served us lunch of aseeda/ugali (a kind of stiff pudding made of sorghum in this case that feels like eating play dough but is less salty), boiled beef, a mixture of peanut butter and honey, and a paste made of termites. While we were eating, people kept piling more presents into the back of our truck. They brought me branches from a hot pepper plant after I enthused about it, and the old lady match-maker brought me a musical gourd shaker thingy, which I hope didn’t have any other significance. We were planning to leave right after lunch, but I had one more thing I had been wanting to do: archery. I’m always seeing these guys going around with hand-made bows and arrows. They apparently go into the jungle and hunt gazelles with them. I’ve never been offered gazelle meat (that I know of), but I’m sure it would be as good as termite paste. Anyway, I saw Hunger Games one time so I knew I could do it. The first arrow I tried to shoot didn’t even make it out of my crooked left-index finger, which I maimed that time I fell off a mountain in Yemen (if you are interested, I blogged about that some time in early 2011). The second arrow landed at my feet, but by the fourth one, I was a pro, and I shot the arrow straight into the trunk of a nearby tree. After that I started aiming for chickens, which people thought was funny, although a few concerned people who had observed my shooting prowess asked me not to kill any. After the archery lesson, we really did head home, bouncing over the dusty road for several jarring hours.

Ready...

Aim...

Celebrate!

FRIDAY

Repent and I hopped on the motorcycle for a 3-hour ride into the jungle. I feel like 3-4 hour motorcycle trips should have been part of my job description, but since I never really got one, I guess it’s ok. I decided that I would ride astride (like a man-they say in India) to make it easier for Repent. I wore my longest skirt for modesty, and threw all our stuff in my backpack.  Our ride started out great. We even saw a flock of monkeys running into the trees—the first time for me here, and seeing exotic wildlife really makes you feel like you live in Africa. Most of the exotic wildlife here migrated to the Congo during the war, which seems a little ridiculous because it’s not like the Congo has been a bastion of peacefulness. I guess the longest civil war of the 20^th century will do that though. Still I heard on Independence Day that some businessmen in Western Equatoria (where I live, in case you didn’t know) are thinking about starting a nature reserve to bring back the wildlife and bring in some tourists. Take that Masai Mara.

Once we turned off the main road, the riding got a bit tricky.  We kept getting slashed in the face by thorn bushes that jumped out at us like obstacles in a video game. While trying to duck and dodge one of those at the same time, Repent and I wiped out. It was then that I realized the benefit of riding side-saddle. In the past, when I’ve noticed Repent about to go down or run into a tree, I’ve just jumped off, and he’s been able to save himself. But riding astride it is more difficult to get off quickly. Laying on the red dirt road, I thought how nice it was of South Sudan not to have paved most of their roads, as falling on dirt is not so bad. Then I realized that Repent was lifting the bike off of me, and I tried to remember how to move my feet. Repent in long pants and tall boots was totally fine. My legs were all slashed up, and a chunk of my heel was nearly severed from my foot. I stuffed the chunk back in, wiped everything down with an antiseptic alcohol swab in the first aid kit I happened to bring along, and stuck on an inferior American bandaid (from the same kit) since I didn’t have any trusty Hansaplast with me. Naturally, it fell off two minutes into the ride. So far, though, my foot hasn’t turned black or green.

I say it doesn’t count as a wreck if you can get up and keep going, which we did. We made it to the little village that wants to partner with us to build a hand pump. To get there, we had to ride on roads which did not actually appear until you were riding on them and the grass parted beneath the wheels, kind of like that rock bridge thing in one of the Indiana Jones movies. But our outing was successful, the villagers were excited to see us, and they loaded us down with gifts to take back with us on our motorcycle: a sack full of corn, lemons, and pineapples, and a live chicken. These were carefully tied on the back of our bike, which concerned me, as I was sure that the angry chicken, living out his last painful hours on earth was going to try to take another chunk out of my leg on our way back home.

We had to make one more stop at another village, already partnering with us, but not yet finished raising their Repair Fund. We had our meeting, made our speeches, and were about to leave, when I heard a car zoom down the road towards us. I knew it was an NGO car, and I thought it was weird, since there aren’t any other NGOs working where we were. It turned in to the field beside us and came to a screeching halt. It was our car. This surprised me because initially, upon requesting the car for our 3 hour journey into the jungle we were told that A) it would not be able to go in the jungle and B) it wasn’t working well even if it could make it and C) we don’t have enough money for fuel. All of these things were running through my mind when Lexon jumps out and runs to me saying, “Are you OK? What’s wrong? I got your text message to come and help you.” I said, “What?” I looked at Repent and he said, “What?” And Lexon repeated himself, and then we asked to see his text message, but he’d deleted it. I wracked my brain to think of anyone else who could have asked Lexon for emergency help, and I was kind of annoyed because I had been really looking forward to riding for 3 more hours with a chicken, just to see how much crazier our day could get. Anyway, since it was there, I got in the car, and Repent threw the bag into the back, along with a very relieved chicken, and we went back on down the road. A few minutes later Lexon found the text message in his deleted items and it said: “Let Amanda take the car. Hakim can drive.” It was from the Bishop in Yei who is drilling wells for us, saying that he would let me take his car to Juba (where I am now in the comfort of electricity and internet) for my visa thing that I had to do on Monday. Lexon thought it was a text from me asking for help. When he told Jeffreys that I needed help, Jeffreys said, “It is for our Sister Amanda. We must do all we can to help.” Lexon told me later that there is a Moru proverb that says, “When someone needs rescuing, don’t ask questions. Just go.” Some of the questions he didn’t ask: “Why is Amanda sending me a text message asking for help from the Bishop’s number?” “Why is Amanda sending me a text message when she is in a part of the jungle that doesn’t have phone signal?” “What is it about this text message that makes me think that Amanda needs rescuing?”

SATURDAY

There’s no rest for the wicked, and that includes the Neverthirst team in Mundri who had to go open a well for another village. Or maybe I should say the Waterthirst team. That was our new name according to the chairman of the Hai Tarawa water committee. As he thanked Waterthirst and all others involved for the new hand pump, it was clear that even though the name Waterthirst gives the impression of the opposite of the meaning that we want to convey, it does roll off the tongue. The well opening was fun, as usual with songs and dancing, free lunch, cute kids. At one point a bunch of kids were crowded around me while I showed them how to play Angry Birds on my phone. They loved it. Thank Micah for having it on my phone—a good time was had by all. Just too bad that I can’t get a photo of the fun while having the fun since my phone is my camera.

So that was my week…as I was driving to Juba today, the same route that I started out walking last Sunday, I thought to myself, “Wow, that seems like a year ago.” Nope. Just a week. Bring on the next one.