As mentioned previously we have no means of boiling sufficient water for our needs in El Geneina. There are however a couple of charcoal stoves for cooking, which could, if one had the time, be used for boiling water. They take ages to get going, although they do the job well enough once the cooking temperatures have been reached. Before anyone thinks our stoves are similar to the barbeques one sees in DIY and Garden Centres, let me assure you that everything here is fabricated locally. The stoves are simple welded metal containers with short legs, about one and half feet tall, to contain the charcoal and nothing more.
There are no trade names to be seen on everyday items. Everything from furniture, such as chairs and tables, beds and coffins to pots and pans are usually provided by small one-man businesses plying their trade along the roadside. Chairs are constructed with welded tubular frames, the seat and back area strung with coloured twine. In a similar manner to a basket weave chair seat although the weave is much coarser to allow air to circulate as much as possible. The chairs are surprisingly restful to sit on, and a jolly sight better than a solid seat or cushion which tends to become very sticky after just a few minutes use. Beds are also constructed in a similar fashion here although as one moves further south in Africa, say to Northern Uganda, beds are constructed using entirely different materials and with wooden stretcher boards rather than twine to fill the base area. The ambient temperature being some degrees cooler, although still regarded as uncomfortable by European standards. The earthenware storage pots in particular, are, I think, another peculiarity of this region. They are built in many sizes and look similar to two normal round pots sitting one on top of the other with the bottom of the top pot removed to allow access to the bottom. Similar to a double bulb in shape, I suppose. although the larger variety is over four feet tall. It is possible that they are constructed in this way because of the need to work fast before the clay becomes unusable, such is the normal daytime temperature here. The pots are filled with water and used to keep things cool. They not particularly water tight, as shown by the clay colour that becomes much darker wherever moisture seeps through. Stood on a simple strong platform with a bucket placed underneath to catch the drips, they make jolly good water filters. Removing most of the sand from the Donkey water before it is chlorinated and filtered by the Berkefield. The latter, a standard piece of equipment used by most aid agencies, uses ceramic filters to remove all (you hope!) of the remaining ‘nasties’ from the drinking water.
Donkey water is water from the wells, delivered by boys using donkeys either pulling small carts, as in Nyala, or here in El Geneina where the donkeys are used to transport the water in large leather bags slung form each side of the animal. The different methods used due entirely to the roads, which here consist of nothing but fine dry sandy, rubbish strewn wide tracks between dwellings, where pulling a heavy cart would prove almost impossible for the donkey to accomplish. Walking anywhere here is similar to travelling upon a large, dry, loose, sandy seaside beach, for that is what it is. In fact the whole country seems to be built upon nothing but fine sand. And this one country alone is bigger in size than the whole of the countries of Europe put together!
Unless you are prepared to fly food in, a costly affair, nearly all our meals are taken using local produce bought in the local outdoor markets. Supermarkets are an unknown quantity around here and there are very few corner shops, as we know them. The butcher, for instance, just kills a beast which is then displayed by hanging it from wooden poles stuck firmly into the ground or hung from the remains of a tree before being cut up for sale. This is often situated at the corner of a couple of streets for all to see and to gauge the quality of the carcase. The meat is usually very tough and continually being covered with flies and fine particles of sand thrown up by passing traffic. People do not have the luxury of refrigerators to store consumables, there being very little electricity available. So here, fresh meat definitely means live meat! And lean. There are no fat cattle in Darfur.
The climate is suitable for growing all types of tropical fruits including oranges, water melons, bananas, mangos etc. The limiting factor here being a shortage of water, again. Tomatoes in particular grow well outdoors and we have some plants in our compound with ripe fruit on them. They, like the meat, are tough and only really suitable for cooking but flourish and survive by having all surplus water, be it hand or dish-washing, thrown at them when we have finished with it.
Lifestyle here is primitive with many of the older residents unable to read or write and most of the children never getting the chance to attend school for long, if at all. There is very little gas and then it is only to be found in bottles. Obtainable by persuading a local merchant to bring some in by road from Khartoum, for a price! Where electricity is available it is limited and unreliable for providing anything but lighting let alone luxuries such as kettles, irons or washing machines and refrigerators. Most of the aid agencies having generators in the offices, normally running on diesel, the fuel being transported in forty gallon steel drums overland. Petrol tankers being as rare as cockerels eggs and a definite security risk in this part of the world. Here, unless you are one of the fortunate few, life can be very hard and cruel at the best of times. Incidentally, our sleeping quarters have no electricity and it gets dark by 8pm with dawn breaking quickly at 7am. The coolest part of the day is around 5am when your skin starts to feels quite normal. It doesn’t last long though!
Have just been informed that everyone has now withdrawn from the Garsila area due to the military and rebel activity and movement restrictions for staff have also been placed on Nyala. With the overall political situation deteriorating all the time, things do not look particularly promising for when I return.
Wished I’d learnt four words in Arabic before I came here. Stop. Go. Up and Down. Would have saved me hours of gesticulation and frustration. Maybe two more words as well, but I’m not going to tell you what those are, because they are very, very, rude!
Have a nice day.
J.