Air Con!

Not to be confused with Con Air, the fine Nick Cage and John Cusack film. I have been trying to save my piastas up so I could buy an air conditioner and I finally did a few weeks ago. It has been in transit for an age and a day, but finally arrived Friday night. We have a bunch of handy people around here and preferring to be busy while they get their drunk on, they took to installing it for me today. 5 plus hours and countless beers later and plenty of questioning of their skills by your truly later, it is pumping out the coolness. Now I just have to hope that they installed it properly. It's a fairly rough install, it's a split unit so the motor sits outside and the the fan inside with some copper piping that has to run in or out--depends on your perspective--to the motorbox outside. A clean install would mean that neither the pipes nor the electrical would be meandering along walls as much as they are now. Nor would a green garden hose be poking out of the wall as drainage. Maybe I can get them to go back and imrpove on a few things. The windows still have to be sealed up any way you cut it, so it's not outside of the realm of possibility that I can get them to drill a small hole in the wall to thread the power cable through instead of running it along an exterior wall for a half dozen feet before coming in through the window. At least it's cool in there now. Now if could just figure out why my eyes are itching everytime I go in there.

Minefield Mountain Biking

Whilst I was in the civilized world I spent an inordinate amount of time debating whether or not I should bring a bicycle back with me. On the one hand I was getting tubby and needed something enjoyable to do to keep myself fit, sane and able to see a little bit of my surroundings, on the other there was the real prospect of laying out serious dough to get the bike, get it there and then have it lost or stolen. I knew it would be key to getting my head back on straight, even so, it required a team effort to make Clinton Kelly Cannondale's acquisition a reality. I test road a lot of bicycles, I went to a lot of bike shops. A lot of bike shops. Bike shops in 4 states. 4 states.
I have found that I have become somewhat obsessed with seeking out and locking in the best value for dollar these last few years and this only added fuel to my OCD bike related fire. Plane tickets, hotels, bikes, whatever it might be I will get what I want for the right price.

The problem that develops with an obsessive type with 'discerning' taste in bicycles who goes shopping for them is that you're never satisfied that you've found the deal and coupled with the modicum of guilt about spending money that might be better used on paying off that IKEA credit card, or one of the many other debts you have and the prospect of heavy extra bagagge fees piled on by the various airlines I'd be flying, you end up so paralyzed with indecisiveness that you must be talked into doing what you clearly knew you wanted to do when you set out.

After 3 weeks of vascilating between brands, shops and states (sales tax is an important element to consider when seeking out value for dollar!) at literally the 11th hour (it was 11 am on April 27th, 7 hours and 5 minutes before my flight, I received one of the three final signs I needed to proceed; the midtown shop would match the price of the shop in Washington Heights ( I was willing to pay the higher sales tax at the right pricepoint)! I was moving in for the kill. We hustled on over to Manhattan and on the way over I was reminded my birthday was nigh. Sign two. When we arrived at the shop I was asked what I wanted for my birthday and that was the third sign. She was going to feed the beast, the old Cannondale F5 was coming home with me a right fantastic birthday present. On checkout a slight problem developed; the bike hand been built up over the weekend and they would not match the price as I had been told on the phone. Oy. Panic sets in, sweating, wavering, but fortunately I had support and an executive decision was made on my behalf. I was taking a bike back with me, we'd wait it out and the 50 extra clams wouldn't get in the way. It was now just shy of 2pm. 2 hours from when the type of individual who is in charge of ridding the landscape of an impovrished nation of the explosive remnants of war should be at the airport. They needed and hour pack the bike. It would be ready at 3. It was. We traversed manhattan rather quickly all things looked good, no delay on the Queensboro bridge, smooth smooth until just about back to Greenpoint when someone decided they needed to ply the toxic waters of Newtown creek and the drawbridge on the Pulaski Bridge went up and stayed up for an eternity.

Gathered the belongings and left for the airport at 3:50pm, for those keeping track, a scant 10 minutes from that commonly accepted 2 hour window for international flights.

My compliments to the Northside cab driver, he threaded us through some interesting neighborhoods and got me to JFK at 4:55pm. Line was short at check in, thought that was a good sign for an empty flight, but that didn't end up being the case, but that's another story!

The world's most unpleasant person was waiting there as I threaded my bike box through the ropes deftly. "You're late." My curt reply; "Thank you for stating the obvious, am I going to get on or what?". Swiss, if you're reading, you need to can that grumpy lady's derierre. Regardless of how much kvetching was going on around her, the 'tude was unecessary and she was dishing it out to everyone.

Fortunately my time with her was limited because the line was moving swiftly and I ended up with this cat who made me rearrange and consolidate my belongings so he could avoid charging me the exorbitent bike as bagagge fee! He did me a solid alright. He did take a rather long time to process me and it was still a tad uncertain if I was going to make it. I certainly wouldn't have objected to an extra night, but that might not have sat too well with the employers.

I made, just so and not without running into cruella again who was of course ready with her editorial comments about passangers who needed gate seat assignments.

Clinton was lucky he was left behind in New York, he didn't have to put up with the scene on board the leg to Zurich.

Swiss did well to reunite us only a day later. Clinton Kelly Cannondale was brought to me by an armed escort. It ain't dubbed Nairobbery for no reason.

It's been fun riding around on the alternatingly dusty and muddy roads of South Sudan. I road the old F5 to the mech team training site the other day and will do so a couple of times this week too. It's not a real minefield, not to say I might not ride to the real clearance site one day, it's certainly a more comfortable method of transportation that aged Landcruiser!

Hiatus

Hello, hello. As you might have noticed, or didn't because the blog was on hiatus, the blog has been on hiatus.

March was a long month here in the South of Sudan and I ran out of enthusiasm for recording life here. I just didn't have much to say that struck me as potentially being of interest to anyone. Too many weeks in a place like this in a row just grinds you down. I fortunately got out of the country for what amounted to a solid month between attending a training in Kenya on the specifics receiving funding for DG ECHO and some leave time.

Now I'm back, with my head screwed on slightly straighter but still sweating buckets.

More soon.

Smooth Operator

That Britt is one sharp cookie. A German Shepherd doesn't far too well in 100 plus degree heat day in and day out without a good plan. Well, I uncovered Mr. Retired Mine Dectection Dog's secret to keeping cool today; he takes a shower.

I've got this English 'bloke' hanging around renting tent space on the compound. Very nice fellow, bored with aerospace engineering so he's now doing a bit of this and that including some large scale plumbing--setting up water pumps and filters for villages here in SS.

When I learned he was a plumber and kitchen installer in his post aerospace life, I quickly set about testing the water to see whether or not he'd be interested in some projects around this place.

He was game so he and I were wandering around looking at the space and ended with a tour of the bathrooms. as we're exiting after a run through what needs to be done, trotting up comes Britt. He is not one to really wander into the buildings to much, so when I witnessed him enter into the bathroom block I was a little surprised. On the left as you enter is the shower and in he went. One of the things Malcom and I were looking at was the leaking shower head. It's been leaking for some time and Britt took note a while back I assume. It's clear that through the day when he gets toasty he goes in for a dip. That explains the very damp and muddy Britt that has been appearing more and more of late.

He'll be a little upset with me since the shower head was fixed this evening. Probably won't be long before the other shower starts leaking, so he ought to be fine.

Smart cookie taking note of something like a leaking shower.

Retirement Community

When there's Juba, why bother with Boca and Palm Springs?

The FSD/SIMAS compound is not shared with a tenant, a commercial demining organization called The Development Initiative, or TDI.

As a part of their 'Toolbox' they have mine dogs. Mine dogs are like bomb sniffing dogs in airports or train stations except they get their smell on looking for mines.

Brit--or maybe it really is Brett like the Brett in Flight of the Conchords whose name is pronounced 'Brit'--is a retired mine dog. Brit was brought up in South Africa and has been living in Sudan working as a mine dog for some time. Not too long, but long enough to justify retirement. Brit is 12. Having Brit around is a real pleasure. He is very well adjusted and mellow. He suffers in the heat as much as the rest of us do, probably more. Makes you a little nervous the way he is constantl changing positions, but I guess he keeps looking for a cool spot. He's always got a smile on too, which is nice. He's getting a little brazen trying to enter the kitchen all the time, but who can blame him?

I'd been talking about a compound dog, not some ugly-ass whippet looking local dog, but a burebred like Dr. Brit, so his addition was a welcome one. He isn't much of a guard dog, but the locals don't care for him by nature, which is good, because then we have a well mannered mine dog that does undercover work as a security dog!

Dry Season

It is dry season in lovely South Sudan and that means dust. Here is a shot from the Dell desktop that the FSD IT guy who is here visitng took apart to clear. Amazingly this puppy was still working reasonably well considering all dust and cobwebs.

This is only a year's worth of gathered dust and cobwebs.

Proud

I'm sure the World Food Program would be proud if they knew their old equipment had found a new lease on life as a bar.

Being Milton Friedman

The deminers in the field are much maligned, blamed for vehicle breakdowns and unnecessary fuel expenditures. The breakdowns may well be their doing, but it appears that none are outside of the course of the typical wear and tear a vehicle covering these miserable roads would suffer.

The sky high fuel costs it seems are the doing of the office staff plundering and using the field staff as scape goats. I've also realized that the field staff have not received an increase in their feeding allowances since 2005, forgotten by the diesel addled brains of the administrative staff long ago.

You can't arbitrarily up a feeding allowance, however, and recalling similar issue my past organizaiton faced with staff in Cambodia, I once again donned my Milton Friedman cap and broke out the calculator and various readings I could find on economics and Sudan and calculated the Consumer Price Index inflation rate for the last 4 years. For many of you the notion of myself engaged in any sort of math related practice that will have some sort of an impact on others well beings is, well, probably nothing short of appaling.

Well, I'll have you all know that I am quite confident in my calaculations. Henceforth, each deminer should receive an additional 3 pounds per day for their feeding allowance. I actually rounded it up to three pounds because I am such a generous guy.

I am very proud of my CPI calculating accomplishment, now I just have to figure out how to catch the fueling theiving office folks red handed.

Love 40

It is 930 on a Thursday night in lovely Juba and I am bouncing a tennis ball off of my bedroom wall for fun. It has come to that. Earlier I was 'juggling' the very same tennis ball with a cricket bat in my room. That at least required a modicum of skill.

Time to break out the PSP.

Why there?

What possess you to live in a toilet my little amphibian friend? Have never seen one of these little cuys anywhere but in the toilet, never. Strange place to spend ones time. They have to come from within into the bowl, which is just strange.

Please Mr. Bol, Pay Us A Visit

We've got the new FSD/SIMAS basketball court set up. I'm quite the sharpshooter from 15 feet or so. It's been nice, gets you out from in front of the computer between 530pm or so and 730, 745ish. Shoot some hoops, shower, take dinner and you're most of the way through the evening.

We've had a lot of extra people around this week to help with the Christening of the court. It's been fun to watch the locals give it a go. Not a particularly atheletic bunch these deminers, but they make up for that in spirit. I don't know very many of the deminers all that well, but those that I do know better are particularly interesting to watch play, because you can see their character traits come out. The guy who is the most analytical in the bunch really 'measures' each shot for example.

I heard there was a Manute Bol sighting up in Wau recently. Maybe he'll come spend an afternoon with the likes of us, instructing on the finer points of offensive rebounding.

I'll take 5 Realms Please

Realms, rim, rimm or ream? It's a ream of paper, right? I've been trying to introduce real procurement procedures here, among them the idea of forecasting needs and buying in bulk. I've started off with office consumables and paper being the primary consumable, it gets a lot of attention.

I've been requesting quotes from various parties and in response a number of strang sounding products and interesting offers have been presented; realms, rim and rimm. My personal fav are the realms. I am thinking a few alternative realms here in Juba wouldn't hurt. Would allow for easy R & R, just tear open a realm and off I'll go.

It's What's For Dinner

Portable Sanity Preserver

While the HMTB assures its user a chance to shake his money maker for as many of the two minutes as he/she can tolerate at the opening and close of each day (I have now worked up to 1 minute 25 seconds), the Sony PSP really does yeoman's work when it comes to staving off the onset of boredom.

Newly acquired at Christmas time--sincerest pf thanks to all who provided me with the machine and the dozen games I now have--I am already through a quarter of an NBA season in a few short weeks.

It is very easy to pass a couple of hours obsessively trying to get less than spectacular NBA players, like one P.J. Brown, to score in the double digits against the 'Lake Show' as one B.E.D. refers to them (I think B.E.D. has received more references in this blog than communications from me in the last night). My college roommates and I all rather enjoyed playing NBA Live, passing countless hours in front of the glowing box playing 'vintage' NBA Live (being from 94 or 95 qualified as vintage in 1998).

One of the favorite facets of game play from that era was the deliberate playing and virtually exclusive use of a single player from outside of the starting roster. Andrew Declerq was a favorite of mine (he had an illustrious career with the Celtics in some of the leaner years of their decade of despair). B.E.D. eclusively used Jeff Hornacek of the Utah Jazz and Reg made a habit of using Horatio Llamos, who was a Phoenix Sun at the time if I recall correctly. Reg was a real wiz of the joystick, he could make Horatio move in the paint in ways that Andrew DeClerq couldn't even dream of. B.E.D.'s mastery of "Hornball's" 3 point shooting prowess was truly remarkable. a 70 point game for B.E.D. and Hornball were the rule, not the exception.

I guess not much has changed in a decade. Wow, a decade. A decade has passed since my glory days as a video game player and here I sit in sweltering dusty Sudan trying to rekindle the flame.

I certainly have time on my side when it comes to rekindling the flame. Once I satifactorily rekindle the NBA Live flame, I will move on to Madden 2009 and see if I can't get Rookie Tight End to get his spin move on.

Time to power up, have an Oreo purchased in Kenya, made under license in the Philipines and get playing.

Cyley Myrus

Brother in law bought me a Hannah Montana singing toothbrush. Broke that out the other night and have been using it ever since. It's quite high tech and most righteous. It's a beautiful concept in dental hygiene. Brush until the music stops. Most of us don't brush out teeth long enough and that pattern is established when we are youts apparently. The inventors of the Hannah Montanna singing toothbrush want to nip poor dental hygiene in the bud with the help of America's favorite poplet by issuing the youts of America with singing toothbrushes. Apparently there are many youts out there who want to listen to the little Cyrus girl. You have to brush in order to hear the sweet siren song. If you stop brushing the volume drops.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, even when brushing the music does not really blast out of the toothbrush in a way that would cause the demining types to take notice and raise an eyebrow.

Through some sort of high tech, parent sanity saving magic, the music is conducted through our teeth into our melons and this only happens while we brush. If we stop brushing, the volume drops and I believe, though I can't be sure because I can't stand next to myself and listen, that the music is not really audible by others hardly at all. I am somewhat disappointed by that fact. It would have been nice to make the new tenants think I am weirder than they already do because I don't drink a minimum of 8 beers a night.

The sad thing is that the HMTB has not fulfilled its goal of improving my dental hygiene. So painful is it to listen to Hannah Montana tunes, that I can't make it through the full song.

I will keep trying.

Otherwise, it is very hot and dusty here. Working on installing a wiffle ball field and a basketball court. Need to find an a/c too. Busy week of working, lots to do.

Need to get back into the groove of updating.

Enjoy the photo of me and the HMTB. Thank you Kristopher.

Maybe they will come out with a Dave Chappelle or Bernie Mac singing toothbrush. Now those would be something. 'America...'

Is This Who You'd Want Your Children Taking Driving Lessons From?

After a very long silence I've decided to start sharing my musings once again.

As you might have guessed by the extended silence, the last few weeks have been quite busy. I left Sudan on December 20th for a whirlwind 13 day vacation. 27 hours in the air in 5 days. I flew all the way to LA from Zurich to finish packing up my apartment there, get it loaded and shipped across to a storage facility in the hometown Skarhead and Freddy Madball.

Once that was taken care of the remaining days were great, spent seeing family and friends. Very short stay given the amount of effort required to get home, nevertheless I appreciated and enjoy every second of being able to grace our fine country's shores with my presence. I really appreciate living there now, let me tell you. You get used to the simple way of life and the hardship that comes with living in a place like Juba, Sudan, but that doesn't mean you like it, or would trade it in. No way, no how.

Like my trip to Khartoum I transited through Nairobi, Kenya. Nairobi is an ok town, kind of like the LA of Africa, minus the film industry and the beach and the mountains. What I mean by the Los Angeles of Africa is that it is quite sprawling so, while many rave about its beauty, it is rather difficult to get a real feel for it because there is so much sprawl. Oh, and the traffic is perhaps worse than LA's. Yeah, it is that bad. Apparently, I am hearing this second hand from a taxi driver, past governments and possibly the current one, pocketed money that was to be used for infrastructure improvements like highways. Instead everything in and around Nairobi effectively travels on city streets.

The drivers are somewhat better than in Sudan, but the distinct lack of lines on the road results in a positioning free for all, and while traffic lights appear to exist, they don't seem to be in use or heeded.

The other days whilst driving downtown to get a multi-entry visa I spied the above photo which should help you understand the type of driver one can expect to encounter here.

The traffic is so bad, it is hard to get more than one thing done per day and there is no alternative but to take some form of an automobile, preferably not one of the mini buses that dart in and out and al over. I had the uncomfortable fortune of trying one out the other day. They are their own thing, the are painted up, emblazened with rappers' visages or soccer team logos and blare loud music. This is mass transit here and interestingly folks from across all walks appear to use them, unfazed by the bass thumping.

I ended up sitting all the way in the back on top of the bass in the particular mini bus I entered. This was not good and not for the more obvious of reasons. Firstly, you are far from the door, which personally bothers me. I want to be able to get out when I want to get out, I don't want to be encumbvered. Secondly, when you are behind or on top of the rear wheels things are naturally bumpier and less comfortable. The real issue, however, was head room. I was sandwiched in there like a sardine. Of course as soon as I realized this I wanted to make a bee line for the door, but it was too late we were in motion. I literally had to sit leaning forward into the seat infront of me much to the delight of the middle aged female there. Not understanding at all.

I thought, ok, this isn't fun, but I can deal. That was before my esteemed chauffeur decided to get all Travis Pastrana on his passengers and go rally racing. Nairobi, being fairly bucolic in nature is not without dirt and grass. Well, my esteemed chauffeur took it upon himself to make use of all available surfaces and space to make his way around the city. This was not fun. Try to imagine offroading in an old VW van jammed with people. Not designed for such activities.

After what seemed like an enternity, I finally mananaged to get the driver to stop and tripped my way out on the roadway. Phew. I started the walk back up to the area where I am staying. Not too far and far more pleasant than staying inside that pinball machine. Amusingly, the guy passed me a short while later with a bemused look on his face. Why was he looking at me that way when he was driving in the opposite direction from where he was supposed to be going? I should have been giving him that look. These guys just cruise all over trying to stay full. When I got out there was room, schedules be damned, he was gonna check the hood for a new passenger.

This wild ride and semi-tear gassing while downtown as they dispersed an anti-Israel protest were two unique experience during the course of an otherwise fairly normal day in a fairly normal place.

More later, forgot my adapter.


Went to the Nairboi National Park yesterday afternoon.

Only taxis in this land from here on out.