haveyoursay

Dangerous Rubbish

Is it really worth recycling bottles when the mess left behind is this bad.Some of the pieces of glass are as big as my hand and this is by where children PLAY!.Sort it out Martley Parish Council before someone get seriously injured.
Its an accident waiting to happen!

K Norgrove
Hastings Close

Genealogy Club

Hi. Are there enough people in and around Martley to start a Genealogy Club? If so would someone like to consider starting one? please let me know, then we could take the matter a little further. Peter H Downes.

Sudan Report 11

Everything is relative to the circumstances, and Garsila is typical of the larger villages in this region. Which means there are a few more shops here than usual, one of which even manages to sell soft drinks from a refrigerator. How the shopkeeper keeps supplying these cold drinks I am not quite sure, as electricity is pretty well non-existent and fuel is expensive.

Oh yes, there are overhead wires around the town but all the time I was working in Garsila an electrical supply never materialised. There is also a daily market, a clinic, a school and various other basic civil amenities. It doesn’t however have anything that resembles a village garage, a supermarket, hotel, boarding house or pub, or even a solitary petrol pump for that matter. Quite honestly it doesn’t need one of the latter. Camels and donkeys have no need for the ever diminishing and thus continually more expensive fossil fuel. Any diesel that does make it here arrives in 40-gallon drums to feed the few vehicles to be seen on the streets. Children even play dare devil games with the four-wheel drivers, by seeing who is the last one to get out of the way! On weekly market days, when small convoys of lorries brave the journey from Nyala to bring new goods to the town, many more of the animals and their owners arrive in town. The use of camels for bulky items says much for local conditions. They prove to be more practical than four wheel drive vehicles, which are absolutely useless during the wet season: as is any other type of wheeled vehicle in Darfur when it rains. And donkeys, well, until I came here I thought they were a dying breed. Now I’m not so sure. They are simply everywhere.
The journey to Garsila was by Russian MIG 8 helicopter. A journey time of just over an hour from Nyala accomplished at a lowish height, giving one the opportunity to survey the countryside in more detail. Not that there was much to see, as everything still exhibited desert like conditions, with very few signs of life. Apart from an occasional deserted and obviously burnt out village and the odd herd of sheep grazing on what little vegetation there was, nothing of particular interest was observed. Until we approached our destination, when the vegetation gradually became more abundant and pools of standing water could be seen.
The helicopters are a general-purpose machine and can be used for carrying a variety of bulky goods or as passenger transport, depending upon the quantity of seats fitted. The UN possessing a few of these workhorses, all based in Nyala, where they are in use most of the time. For high value goods it is by far the most secure and safest method of delivery. Transporting anything by road in Darfur is a very risky affair and really only suitable for items which have little monetary value. One problem however with using the helicopter service is its timetable, which is liable to change at the very last minute. In my case I had to wait an extra two days before the flight to Garsila was rescheduled owing to more urgent work taking precedence.
We touched down in the middle of an Army camp. The only suitable clear open space available, as it turned out. Dropping me off without even stopping the rotors, I moved my luggage and some essential stores out of the immediate downdraft danger area and the helicopter rose quickly into the air and was away to its next port of call. Gathering up my belongings I walked towards the only people I could see, a bunch of soldiers who were lazily watching from a few hundred meters away. It’s at moments like these that you begin to wonder whether you have been deposited in the right place. The first question that comes to mind is: I wonder if any of these fellows speaks English? It was soon obvious that they couldn’t and as I spoke very little Arabic we would only be able to communicate by the use of sign language. One of the group, with a gesture of his hand invited me to sit next to him on what looked like an old iron bedstead. Which was obviously the place where all strangers dropping unceremoniously out of the sky were interrogated and eventually made to talk! I gathered that the person whom I was to meet, was on his way by foot, as all the vehicles were all out working during the day in the outlying refugee camps. With the mud and straw huts of the village in the background one felt a little like Stanley waiting for Livingstone to turn up. Only in this case it was Jeff, the Oxfam local program coordinator, who was hurrying to greet me. After a ten-minute delay he appeared from out of the bushes in the direction of the village. When suitable introductions had been exchanged we shouldered the luggage and set off towards the compound located about a mile away. Followed by a large group of children all chanting the same words. Which I had difficulty in interpreting at first as they sounding a bit like “watynm”. As the latest stranger in town, the children were indeed fascinated by the sight of a tall white haired person appearing from out of the blue. Naturally they wanted to touch this apparition and to know the strangers name! Hence “What is your name” repeated over and over again.
The compound, when we reached it, was a welcome relief to all this sudden and unexpected attention. It consisted of a large area surrounded by a high wall with enough room inside to house any vehicles during the night. Corrugated iron sheets were used to make a pair of doors for the compound entrance. Inside the buildings consisted of a couple of small tukels, low round mud walled and conical palm leaf roofed huts, together with a small brick built building, on top of which was a 40 gallon drum and two larger high walled but corrugated roofed, single story buildings. One of which, being windowless, was used as a secure store, the other being the main living quarters. This latter was really nothing more than a few small interconnecting rooms with uneven dirt floors. Wire mesh covered openings in the walls acting as windows. The only door into the building was constructed of another corrugated iron sheet surrounded by a rough ill-fitting wooden frame. There were no internal doors between rooms but, what looked like a cloth ceiling had been installed in each room about three meters from the floor, this allowing air to circulate above and to reflect heat from the corrugated iron roof. Apart from that no other sign of decoration could be seen, the walls inside and out were just bare unpainted rough cast brick. Some old crudely installed, dangerous electrical wiring was in evidence but as no power had been available for some time this was virtually redundant. A few mosquito netted beds, four cheap garden type plastic chairs and a table, with a large wooden store and provision cupboard along one wall completing the furniture. There was nothing else!
The small building with the drum on top was divided into two. One half of the structure used as a shower cubicle, the other half acting as the essential latrine. The ‘power’ shower consisting of an upturned plastic bottle with a few small holes punched in the bottom, fed by water from the drum above, via a flexible plastic pipe. A small sized tap regulating the water flow into the bottle. The heat from the Sun easily warming the water during the day, so providing hot showers in the evenings, with slightly cooler showers by the following morning. The latrine was very basic and consisted of a large deep hole dug into the ground. A reinforced concrete slab, with a keyhole shaped opening placed towards the middle of the slab covered the opening to the hole. Two strategically placed footprints were moulded into the concrete each side of the ‘keyhole’ for alignment! When not being used this opening was covered to stop flies and other ‘creepy crawlies’ from becoming a nuisance. The only concession here to modern living, unheard of by the indigenous population, was the provision of toilet paper, until our supply ran out! Again, ill fitting corrugated sheeting doors providing some degree of privacy whilst occupied!

It is normal practise that local people, such as widows with children, whose husbands had been killed by the conflict, are usually hired to act as housekeepers or cooks while NGO’s are working in the area. Fresh food obtained daily from the market is normally cooked over charcoal burners every day. The quality of the food is very poor compared with that obtainable in the UK. However, you eat what is available as transporting goods any distance is an expensive exercise and is not considered an essential priority. Food for the camps, Medical supplies, Blankets, Agricultural implements, Water pipes, Pumps, Water containers etc, being more important than imported pleasures. The first and main meal of the day was normally taken around eleven o’clock in the morning. Any leftovers were eaten cold at the next meal. Which normally occurred around 7pm, just before daylight ended. This often resulted in cold chips, cold rice with left over chicken bones for an evening meal. Any surplus food or water here in Garsila, being too precious a commodity to be wasted or thrown away. Remember, the equivalent amount of food you throw away every week could probably sustain a family in Darfur for a month. A strong constitution, excellent resilience and endless patience, are just three of the vital requirements needed when working in the aid agency environment!

There was one thing about this local area, which sets it apart from the others visited in Darfur. The temperature was decidedly cooler. In fact, at night it was really quite cold and blankets were needed to keep warm. In other areas of Sudan I found the heat, even at night, quite oppressive. Why Garsila was so much more pleasant to work in remains a mystery, as it is only about 200 kilometres west of Nyala where the temperature is really hot all day and night long. My guess is that the better and more abundant vegetation contributed greatly to the change in climate.

Overall, the situation in Darfur is gradually worsening, with many violent incidents reported every day. Roads, which should be open to transport food and other sundry supplies to the refugee camps, are continually being closed, due to attacks on travellers. In the last six weeks, personal attacks, abductions and harassment of aid workers, let alone refugees, has increased considerably. Where it becomes exceedingly difficult to provide worthwhile assistance to the IDP’s and refugees. Agencies are even being advised not to send international staff to operate in the camps. Which limits the amount of expertise that can be applied. As a result, contingency plans are being put into place for a strategic withdrawal, if, and when the situation deteriorates further. If the present position does not improve before the next rainy season then we could be facing an unparalleled humanitarian disaster in Darfur. Just a small part in the west of Sudan, whilst still covering an area larger than the British Isles.

Whether the talks that recently took place in Nairobi will result in a decrease in the present conflict remains to be seen. Unless there is any real commitment and pressure by the international community I very much doubt we will see a short-term worthwhile improvement.

By the time you read this I will be back home with a few more memories of the dreadful circumstances of the many hundreds of thousands of disadvantaged people throughout the world. And to realise how very lucky I am to be alive and living in England. And Martley!

I keep threatening to retire, but am finding it difficult to stop completely. Funny really, as I grow older the work hasn’t, as yet, become any more difficult or less satisfying. In fact, the adrenaline still flows the same as it did with my first assignment, many years ago now. As long as my health, strength, and mental capacity to absorb new technicalities remain as they are, I will probably continue to answer a call wherever and whenever that may be.

Where to next you may ask? I have no idea!
How long away? Until the assignment is completed!
How much notice? Now there’s a laugh!

Clothes are repacked. Spares replenished. Jabs up to date. Malaria tablets at the Ready: GO!
Stark raving mad? Of course!

Take it from me: YOU really are very, very fortunate.

Thank you for reading.
Have a nice day.
J.
END.

Danger

Just to let people know that as of yesterday (Tuesday) December 7th. there is a large mobile home stacked on the road close to the Rosses Lane crossroads on Horn Lane.
I was involved in a nasty collision there last night - my car is likely to be written off.
The mobile home is unlit - the roads are muddy - please take care!
And whoever left it there PUT SOME LIGHTS ON IT - YOU ARE BREAKING THE LAW! Dave Cropp

Report from Sudan 10

Mad dogs and Englishmen, so the song says, go out in the midday sun. Here in Nyala, now that Eid is over, we must all be crackers, as everyone is busy moving around outside from dawn until dusk. Only once a week, on Friday’s does this level of intense activity drop, when the local staff have their day off. I am reasonably sure that somewhere in my contract there is a paragraph that mentions 38.5 hours as the weekly norm.

Reckon it’s more like 98.5 hours at present as I attempt to complete the outstanding tasks before leaving Sudan for the UK in just over a week’s time. The best part of the day, by far, is in the evenings as I sit down to write this article, when we still have generator electricity available and the temperature has decreased somewhat to a bearable level. It has taken me the best part of six weeks to become acclimatised to the local conditions and it is only now that I am beginning to enjoy the work. However, I will probably look back on this assignment as being one of the tougher ones I have undertaken so far. Not in terms of the amount of actually physical or mental work accomplished, which has been plentiful but not particularly demanding, but in the difficulties presented by trying to operate in a climate of almost constant heat and dust. Which, from someone coming straight from a temperate climate, used to working in many other African countries, has at times been an extremely wearing experience. I take my hat off to the humanitarian aid workers here, from all corners of the world, who cope with good humour in the harsh and difficult conditions prevailing in Western Sudan.
From the time I arrived in Darfur there has never been a cloud in the sky to relief the daily monotony of the searing sun. It rises quickly above the horizon every morning around 7.00am like a brilliant ball of fire and within a few minutes of appearing the temperature outside rises rapidly to become almost unbearable. Although during the day there has never been a time when one can see to the far horizon. What looks, at first glance, like a heat haze a few miles away, is in fact an almost constant dust storm caused by the breeze blowing sand particles into the air. The initial smell of sand is quite nauseating until you become accustomed to the odour and it permeates everywhere. Up your nose, in your mouth and eyes, even tastes in the food you eat. And the temperature is no better. A couple of days ago, at five in the evening, a thermometer placed in the radio room, with a large ceiling fan going full blast, registered 100F. By 8.30am the following morning it had dropped to 90F! Under these conditions, physical work outside during the day, at any pace, is particularly wearing on the system. It’s also a very good way to lose weight!
We are in a region of the world where the indigenous population rely upon the short intense rainy season to survive for the rest of the year. Before the present troubles began most of the people lived contentedly enough in small villages where subsistence farming was the practised way of life. Now many hundreds of thousands have been driven out of their homes and are living close together for safety in large sprawling camps, too scared to return, preferring the temporary shelters and the ever-present risk of disease. In many cases their homes have been destroyed and their villages burnt to the ground. Now they have to rely upon strangers, who cannot even speak their language, to supply the daily needs. Without the organised camps, run by the NGO’s, they would surely die, if not from starvation then of disease, or being slaughtered in the fighting, as many hundreds of thousands have already been killed during this long running conflict.
Health promotion is a vital service provided by many aid agencies including Oxfam. This is directed towards all IDP’s1 and Refugees2 in an attempt to educate the population on basic hygiene awareness. One of the most successfully ways of accomplishing this is by setting up schools in the camps and teaching the young boys and girls the basics, such as the correct use of the latrines, hand washing with soap and water and cleanliness in preparing food, etc. Knowledge that is taken back to their respective families, where the parents find themselves instructed by the children, rather than the other way around for once. It has resulted in many parents coming to the schools themselves to find out, as the children have been so insistent regarding cleanliness and the correct routines to follow. This, together with access to sufficient clean water and basic rations for everyone, helps to keep the large camps reasonably healthy and free from disease. Latrine construction, Hand well digging and borehole drilling for water becoming a major engineering task and a logistic nightmare where so many people are congregated together. In many of the camps the nights are becoming colder and distribution of blankets, for instance, is being executed. Most of the refugees only have the clothes they were wearing when they had to flee and have no other possessions to make life a little easier.
Where suitable, usually in the smaller communities, help is also given with providing tools, seeds and other essential items so that people can be encouraged to provide for themselves rather than rely upon others for handouts. These actions are normally separate from the larger emergency programs, which are set up to help on a short-term basis.
Tomorrow a flight by WFP helicopter takes me about two hundred kilometres west to Garsila for a couple of days. It’s a small village located not far from the border of the Central African Republic, which has the distinction of being one of the poorest countries in the world, where surviving is pretty tough at the best of times. On my return I plan to set out for Khartoum and finally back home and Martley.
My next report will be the final one of this particular assignment.

Have a nice day.
Keep healthy.
J.

1. Independent Displaced Persons. Basically, Refugees residing in camps in their own country.
2. Refugees are defined as people from one country who have crossed a border to another country.