By Road

So, last week I had a real adventure! A real, "Oh my, I'm out of my comfort zone!", "Perhaps, this wasn't a good idea.", "Hold it together, don't you dare cry in front of this crowd of Sudanese men." sort of adventure.

It all started a few months back when the new government of the Republic of Southern Sudan mandated that all flights entering or existing the country must proceed through one of three entry points - ours being Juba.

Africa Inland Mission considers Sudan to be a "hardship zone" and therefore requires all Sudan missionaries to leave their area of service once every three months. For us, living in Didinga, these periods of time out of Sudan are not only necessary for mental, physical and spiritual rest, but also logistically essential as all of our grocery shopping, banking and medical care must be done out of Nagishot.

Traveling through Juba is quite expensive. Eager to avoid these new travel costs, I started looking for alternative travel plans.

And this, my friends, is where the real adventure began!

The plan, which seemed to be a great one and might have been if everything had gone accordingly was to: hike down the mountain to Chukudum early on the 1st, catch public transportation to a small village called Camp 15, located smack dab in the middle of nowhere Sudan, spend the night there and, the following morning at 8 am, meet Daniel, a missionary friend, who I would then travel by road with onto Nairobi.

I was fairly confident in the plan, as confident as one ever dares to be in Sudan. However, it didn't take long for the plan completely disintegrate.

Problem Number 1:
The week between Christmas and New Year's was marked with extreme fatigue and a general feeling of "offness" for me. I tried, with no success, treating the amoebas I knew were hiding out in my stomach. However, despite the medicine I'd already taken, I woke early on the morning of the 30th with stomach cramps. I tossed, turned and moaned my way to 9 am. The rest of that LONG and painful day was spent vomiting.

I rolled in my new year from the comfort of my twin bed, sleeping most of the day and turning in for the night about 4 hours before the official start of the Sudanese New Year. It was a pretty bland New Year's Eve.

Still feeling off, I woke at 4:30 on the morning of the 1st, forced myself to eat my first meal in days and started the long hike down the mountain to Chukudum.

Liaga was nice enough to escort me down the mountain.
He was keen on jogging most of the way.
My tender stomach wasn't impressed with the jog. Errr... I mean, hike.

Problem Number 2:

Though I'd been assured on numerous occasions that finding transport from Chukudum to Camp 15 on the 1st would not be a problem, I quickly realized once I arrived in Chukudum, that the hope of securing a vehicle to the moon was just about as plausible as finding a taxi to Camp 15.

Feeling wheezy and worn out, frustrated and far from home, I spent the first day of 2012 oscillating between hot walks through the village searching for transport and sleeping in a random friend of a friend's house.

By nightfall, the hope of meeting Daniel seemed hopeless. Due to the New Year's celebrations traveling was an impossibility. The limited cell phone network meant that calling or emailing Daniel to let him know of my impending delays was also not an option.

After careful consideration, I decided to take my chances with transportation in the early morning hours and pray for the best.

Though I was more than tired, the night in Chukudum was sleepless.

The New Year's celebrations were in full swing by noon and by nightfall it was hard to find a sober Didinga. Though I wanted, no needed, to sleep, the loud drumming, yelling from both inside and outside the house and street dancing made resting difficult.

Which led to....

Problem Number 3:
With most the village up past 4am, the promise of a sunrise departure didn't quite materialize.

At half past 8, a half an hour after I was to meet Daniel, I finally was on my way to Camp 15.

Our late Chukudum departure and a the twenty minute layover devoted to buying corn on the cob led to....

Problem Number 4:
At 10:40 am, two hours and forty minutes after my planned meeting time, I finally reached Camp 15. After waiting for as long as he could, Daniel left Camp 15 at 10:30am. Exactly ten minutes before I arrived!!!

A white person in Camp 15 is something of a novelty. When I arrived asking if anyone had seen the white man, I quickly learned that he had just been there, drank a soda, waited and left moments before my arrival. One helpful lady, trying to encourage me, pointed out his dusty tire tracks.

Problem Number 5:
In a different world, a non-Sudanese one, I simply would have hailed a cab, explained my situation and most likely, caught up to Daniel within the half hour.

However, I was not in a different world. I was in my world. A world where the only vehicle to be seen was the slower than molasses taxi I had already been struggling with for two days. The very taxi which after hours of negotiations had promised to take me to Camp 15 on the evening of the 1st, but didn't. The same ol' taxi who promised me as we were leaving Chukudum at 8:30 am that we would make it to Camp 15 by 8am!!!

Eager for a second opinion, I called my boss. After checking the safety of the road, he encouraged me not to turn back for home, but to keep pursuing an eventual rendezvous with Daniel.

And so, with no other transportation option, I resigned myself to board the slowest taxi on the face of the Earth for my fast pursuit of Daniel.

Problem Number Six:
Traveling through no man's land Sudan as a single white woman is not really the best idea. In fact, most Sudanese women shy away from traveling solo. If a woman is forced to travel alone, she will traditionally carry a large rock as a form of protection. Seriously.

With all of this in mind, I was quite intentional about traveling with Liaga.

Unfortunately, Liaga had other plans. Shortly after boarding the slowest taxi in the world (which from this point forward will be referred to as the Slosh) Liaga grew tired, set down my bag and quickly informed me that he was going back to Chukudum. With that, he ran off and jumped in a taxi heading in the opposite direction.

Problem Number Seven:
After a forty-five minute wait, the Sloth finally departed.

The drive to Kapeota was a bit long, hot and quite crowded. Jammed up against the door, on a seat too tall for the vehicle, each bump, and I assure you there were many, caused me to forcefully bonk my head on the roof and my right arm against the door.

I arrived in Kapeota, a town I had only briefly visited once before, flustered, bruised and clearly not thinking straight.

Hoping for some insights as to the whereabouts of my elusive ride, I dimwittedly greeted the traffic guards in Didinga. The fact that Kapeota is a Taposa territory (Taposa being the fierce enemy of the Didinga) completely slipped my mind. After this major language/cultural blunder, any hope of gaining a bit of insight into Daniel's whereabouts was a long shot as the guards refused to even acknowledge my presence. Maybe I'm picking up more Didinga culture then I thought or perhaps these helpful guards were misguided by my freckles and strawberry blond hair, mistaking me for a Didinga. Who knows???

Anywho, things got worse from there. Much, much worse.

Problem Number 8:
Unable to speak the local language, alone, pretending to have things under control , but really not even sure as to which direction I was headed, I started to feel a bit out of my comfort zone.

I took a boda (a hired motorcycle) to the city center, figuring that all hired transportation would be operating from this point.

I was right. Finally.

After several chaotic, yet futile, interactions with potential taxis, I was unanimously informed that, "the time had gone" and travel onto Loki was an impossibility until the following day.

This turned out to be the straw the broke the camel's back.

Choking back tears and simply refusing to cry in front of the crowd of Sudanese men, I retreated. I walked through the gawking crowds, simultaneously encouraging myself that everything would be fine and worrying that it wouldn't. I prayed.

Not really sure where to go, I walked to the only store I had previously been to. Thankfully, the storekeeper recognized me, seems that I stick out a bit in these parts of the world, and asked me how I was doing.

With the prospect of spending the night alone in a foreign village, I wasn't really doing that well. I nodded to him, still unable to speak, bought a water and turned my back to the crowd struggling to compose myself.

My struggle was obvious. The storekeeper again inquired if I as ok. I shook my head and managed to whisper that I was. Unconvinced, the only other woman in the shop searched my downcast eyes, asking if I was alright. Taking a deep breath, I explained my situation.

The storekeeper asked me not to worry and pointed out a taxi he was certain was headed towards Loki.

Taking his directions, I tried not to worry and headed towards the taxis.

Problem Number 9:
I asked everyone whom I could clearly communicate with where the taxi was headed, and each time I was assured that the said taxi was headed towards Loki. I did not really believe that I would make it to Loki in that taxi, but at the time it was my only real option.

I waited and waited and waited for the taxi van to fill with passengers.

After two hours of waiting the taxi's conductor, a man whose job it is to fill the taxi with passengers, approached my window.

After a brief greeting, the conductor whispered, "This taxi will not reach Loki tonight. The border closes at 5pm. If you travel with us, you will have to spend the night at the border. You must find a different option."

This man was a gift from God. An answered prayer.

Mr. Angel Conductor quietly told me to hire a personal taxi. Earlier, I had considered this option, but after much thought decided against it as I was nervous about traveling alone. However, at this point, with the clock nearing 2 pm, I weighed my options and settled with what I considered to be the least of the two evils.

I asked Mr. Angel Conductor to bring me his most trusted taxi man. And to the shouts and angry threats of his fellow workers he did so, giving his business to his opponent and possibly putting his very job on the line.

Problem Number 10:
So, with less than three hours to reach the border, I prayerfully entered the taxi.

I explained to the driver that I could NOT sleep at the border, that I MUST reach Loki tonight and that if he failed to deliver me to my said destination ON TIME I would NOT pay him the agreed upon amount, but rather the cheap public transportation price.

He seemed to get the idea, or so I thought.

Rushing away from the taxi park we traveled oh, about.... three whole city blocks before stopping for gas. You see, in Africa, it is quite rare to hire a taxi with a full and prepared for journey, tank of gas.

We pulled in to the gas station at 2:05 pm, exactly 2 hours and 55 minutes before the border closed.

I spent the next 40 minutes impatiently waiting for the driver to fuel the car and stewing about the fine art of inefficiency. I truly love Africa's slow-paced, laid-back approach to life. This approach drives many Westerners crazy, but it suites me - or it does 98% of the time. Yet, on this particular day my patience had run out. I had nothing left. I was quietly fuming with irritation over the disorganized, ineffective approach towards well, seemingly everything.

Eventually, my desire to be culturally sensitive, to blend in and not rock the boat ceased to be an option. I could wait no longer. I exited and locked the taxi, squeezed past the group of staring Taposa men and wandered behind the gas station in search of my driver.

I found him. With as much grace as I could muster, I asked him what in the wide, wide world of sports he was doing. To which he calmly informed me the generator, which allows gas to be pumped, was broken.

Nearing my boiling point, I kindly reminded this man that I would not pay him unless he got me through the border in the next two hours and 15 minutes!!!

At this time, Mr. Angel Conductor reappeared and filled the car with several water bottles full of spare gas he had somehow procured.

I sincerely thanked this kind-hearted man and quickly got back in the car.

The next two hours and 11 minutes were spent flying down the dirt roads of Sudan.

Though my taxi driver attempted to repeatedly convince me that there was no danger of missing the border, the speed with which he was driving and the fact that he kept checking his watch every ten minutes were telling signs that we might not.

I road most of the way with my eyes on the road, my hands gripping the seat and my mind wandering. I prayed continually. Asking God to forgive my impatience and short-temper. I asked for protection and peace about the uncertain night ahead.

At 4:56 pm, with four minutes to spare, we cleared the Kenyan border! I had never, in all my travels, been so relieved to enter a country!

About an hour and a half later, after more than 37 hours of VERY. STRESSFUL.TRAVEL, I finally made it to Loki. And a few moments after that, I finally met up with Daniel.

Daniel apologized for leaving me, though it really wasn't his fault, and informed me that he wasn't too worried about me - "I knew you'd find some way to get here."

I wonder if he also knew that I'd spend two solid days trying not to blubber in public like a big fat baby?

That first night out of Sudan was wonderfully blissful.

I washed off the day's sweat and dust with water that came pouring out of a wall. I think that they are calling this contraption a shower. I ate what was my third meal in four days! I devoured cheese, oh wonderful cheese, for the first time in three months! I didn't have to sleep at the border, by myself!

The following two days of road travel to Nairobi went off without a glitch - well, ok so there was one small problem of the brakes temporarily refusing to work - but besides that, it was great!

Loki Sunrise

Kenya

I am pretty sure some people pay a great deal of money for this -
4 wheeling through the Kenyan Desert!
Super FUN!

Traffic!

More Traffic - Turkana boys and their cows.

Out of the bush and headed into town.

The Elusive Group - Daniel, me, Susanna and Simon