Who Am I to Judge

I am feeling somewhat remorseful. A thought swept over me during a Remembrance Day memorial while in Juba awaiting my last and final deployment to Torit. It happened during a conversation I had with a UNMAO (MINE ACTION) employee just before the event begun. “People seem to forget that it was only a few years ago that this place was at war. People being killed everywhere. Bodies lying out on the roadways left to rot. Families torn apart.” I have at times become frustrated, angry, upset at the lack of will to change and also the lack of trust, faith, and respect that some of the people of Southern Sudan have towards the United Nations presence. The latter I relate more to higher ranking officials in SSPS, SPLA, and the government.

A Rwandan UNPOL told me, while we were working together in Yambio, that they felt the same way towards the UN in his country, driving around in their fancy vehicles, not really understanding what they were there for. Not able to help them when they really needed it. He said that it was only until years later that he and his people were able to look back and understand it. Who am I to judge the people of Southern Sudan. I should simply be pleased with being given the opportunity to help in any way I can and keep pushing forward. Hopefully something we have done here will have made a difference and I should be happy to have been a part of it. And maybe they to will only realize our purpose and accomplishments when we have left. When that will be I do not know. Part of me believes that I will be sitting at home one day watching the news and seeing places that I have been to at war yet again. There are too many issues that remain to be resolved. Who am I to judge…I get to go home to a condo, big screen tv, a fridge full of food and drink, clean water, pubs and restaurants, surfing and campfires, and relative peace. I get to go home in February. I have to go home in February.

I started working in Torit on November 11th. I was not sure what to expect when I got here. I am in Eastern Equatoria now. The climate is much warmer. The UN camp the same. My container a carbon copy of the last two I have lived in. There is no chemically treated water here for the UN personnel. The Bangladesh Battalion, our force protection, have chemically treated water, however, it is not always available to us so I have dug my water purifying equipment out of my barrack box, dusted it off, and set it up so I can drink the water here when I have to.

I feel re-energized and have hit the ground running. My official duties here are still being decided so for now I am out on patrols taking as much of it in as I can. I enjoy patrols because I see more of the countryside and get to interact with the locals. Landmines are an issue here. I was warned before coming, but did not realize the seriousness until one of the patrols I went on. We are encouraged to try and keep on well used roadways as much as possible. Once in a while a shortcut is necessary. Torit was hit hard during the war and there was a lot of fighting between the SAF (Sudan Armed Forces) and the SPLA. A lot of people were killed and landmines placed everywhere. Rarely were the landmine sites ever documented making it difficult to know where they are. Torit was hit with a lot of rain during the rainy season which has limited travel on some of the roads. My Zambian patrol partner and I were about to take a short cut the other day when a local stopped us and told us that it was not safe. We turned back. There is a lot of work yet to be done in Torit regarding mines. No more shortcuts for me. My morning runs are not down any trails either. It is the road for me and nothing more.

The main local tribe in Torit are the Latuko. They feel like Torit belongs to them. Many of them can be seen naked in the local stream bathing. Men and women together. When someone dies, they walk naked to the funeral. A tradition of their people. The local food is similar to other places I have been. A lot of imports from Kenya and Uganda. The odd local fruits and vegetables are also available. The same stench of raw meat, dried fish, and body odour fills the air while I walk through the market saying, “Salaam Alykum” to as many of the locals I can. Arabic is the main language used here. As I walk back to my UN vehicle, a physically disabled man drags himself down the street. He has legs, but they are severely distorted. Probably due to polio for which he never received treatment. No wheel chair for him and I can not give him a ride. It is a little heart wrenching. I pull my camera out and hold it by my side away from wandering eyes and snap a quick photograph. I do not feel guilty about it.

I have witnessed first hand where the local governments tend to spend a lot of their money. I have been to parties at the Governor’s House in Yambio. Hundreds of people being served with food, beer, whiskey, children singing, long self serving speeches that seem like they will never end simply to commemorate the arrival of a new government official. And yet the local hospital is in ruins, the mentally challenged roam the streets with no food or drink, the physically challenged use their hands to drag themselves from place to place.

The local population is generally happy to see the UN around. If they only knew that the likelihood of more war could be just around the corner. It is a love/hate relationship with this place. I can not wait to go home to…well, home, friends, and family, yet I am also starting to have a difficult time thinking of leaving this place. It has become somewhat comfortable here. A home away from home. It is probably good that the RCMP will not give us the opportunity to extend our mission. So I sit here in my container smoking my shisha filling my lungs with the cool sweet smoke of apple flavoured tobacco (it is quickly developing into a habit). It relaxes me. I am looking forward to tomorrow, the next week, and the next few months.

Peace from Torit,

Rory.

(Photos from top to bottom: 1) My home in Torit, 2) My water purifying set up, 3) Torit Market, 4) Local at the market, 5) Women hard at work...where can I find a woman like this)