Update 18:

It has been an interesting week. It was my 11th week here in Sudan. 11 weeks have come and gone out of a 3-month contract. Technically I should be getting in a plane to Geneva in the next few days. In actuality though, I have extended my contract for one month. I will now be leaving South Sudan on the 19th January. 4 months in Sudan!

Next week is Christmas, but to be honest there isn’t the slightest amount of excitement on my part. I can’t really believe that Christmas day is in 4 days. I can’t quite imagine what snow is like anymore, and I certainly can’t fully appreciate Christmas when it’s 40 deg.

I remember the only other Christmas I spent away from New Brunswick, I remember it was even hotter than here. It was 48 deg, a heat wave was again sweeping Sydney, Australia. Wildfires were again threatening the suburbs. Smoke filled the air. Some parallels can be drawn between then and now that’s for sure.

I remember the penthouse in Darling Harbour that I was living in. I remember how much money I was making, selling my soul for a huge credit card company, but nevertheless I was living comfortably. And like right now in Sudan, the week before I had spent only one night sober.

But in Australia it was different, I mean there were things to do and we were doing them. Heading to Manly or Bondi or Coombs or one of the other beaches to soak up the rays, enjoy the topless bathing, barbeques and Bundi&Cola’s. Going to Kings Cross. House parties. Eating good food. Riding a crotch rocket without a helmet the wrong way down the street (they drive on the other side, so turning immediate right at an intersection is a bad idea).

This year though I am Sudan. They drive on either side of the street, depending on how they feel, or if they feel they are in a bigger rush than the oncoming traffic. It’s hotter and dustier than the Dust Bowl. Garbage is strewn everywhere, especially the creeks. It seems to be a well-established pattern of garbage removal throughout much of Africa, put it in the creek for the flash floods to magically make it disappear.

There are some similarities, there are barbeques, there are house parties and there is a pool (but no topless bathing allowed), instead of the beach you can lounge on the bank of the Nile (just keep an eye out for crocodiles the size of a canoe). Yes. A CANOE REFERENCE, I AM CANADIAN. I could get on a motorbike and test my reaction capabilities, but the bikes are bought for $700 brand new and are Chinese made, something breaks before you can even start it. So between their lack of quality and insane driving patterns of the country I stick to the Landcruisers.

The biggest similarity though is missing the family. It sucks to be away from home. To know how well they are eating, to know that my niece and nephew are the center of attention and not me (haha), yet to quantify the thing that I miss the most is impossible. But certainly the company, the family, the walks with or without snowshoes, the arguments, the feeling that you get when you are at home that no matter what; they love you, the snow, the cold, the food, the eggnog, turkey, mashed taters, gravy, enhanced hikes with friends, brothers and sisters, trips to the lookout.

I remember my birthday almost two years ago; I remember how great it was because it was hopefully the most miserable birthday I will have. It was so great because now I value so much company that you love on special days. I expect this Christmas to parallel that day. It sounds funny, but I can’t wait for it, I look forward to this Christmas because in the future I will do my level best not to spend one this far from family. I can only hope to always remember this one so that I will appreciate being home so much more in future times.

I am happy to spend these holidays in Sudan. I will never forget this Christmas, this New Years; it’ll be another interesting experience that lives on in my memory. After all, life is made up from experiences. This will be one of them and I look forward to it, almost as much as I look forward to being back home.

So if it’s possible for you, make sure you can spend this Christmas with someone or at least somewhere you love. Try not to take it for granted that you have the privileged life that you do. Not too many people live the way we do, free from disease, malnourishment, war and insane military and police organisations. When you look at it from a different perspective, the problems that we as Canadians face appear tiny and insignificant. I know, I know one shouldn’t compare ones problems to another’s.

I’ll probably put out another update soon, but if I don’t get one out before Christmas. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Think about a New Years Resolution and aim to fulfill it. Thanks dudes, dudettes, ladies and gentlemen alike.

Update 17:

I wish I could paint this picture with words. Even if most of you might not know what plastic sheeting and shadow nets are, I think you can appreciate it based on what follows.

But imagine parched earth, giant two-inch eggshell pattern cracks in the dirt as far as an eye can see. Think of how a shattered windshield would look to an ant then magnify it to our abilities at perception and you’ll have an idea what I am talking, about well aside from the colour, that is.

Shadow net is exactly what it says, nets tied to poles or trees (if you can find one) that are about 3-5m off the ground, erected to give shadow, to protect us from the unrelenting and scorching sun. Plastic sheeting is essentially just a plastic, rip resistant tarpaulin on a 250m roll. Our compound walls and office roof are made from plastic sheeting and sticks, not the best for any kind of protection but it keeps folks from seeing inside.

I am currently on a field trip. Not like a high school field trip, where alcohol and trouble always ensue (for me, usually in that order). It is more like I am visiting a field project, providing them with support, entertainment, a new face for a week performing (in vain) in all attempts to keep them happy and from dying of heat, boredom, and their seeming frustration that their capital/supervisors (I am unfortunately one of them) don’t seem to understand or respect their problems.

There are the constant pleasant rivalries between the field projects and the capitals (Khartoum and Juba) regarding which is hotter. The closest comparison would be to hockey team rivalries, still friendly but there always exists a bit of animosity.

The temperature competition is a bit closer though, usually 1 or 2 degrees, each location believing it is the hottest. As far as I know it has been between 38 and 42 degrees everyday since my arrival. So one day it’s hotter in Juba, the next it’s hotter in the field. Either way 40 C is hot, that’s 104 F. Even under the shadow net.

But back to the picture: Think of African planes like in the movies, with funny shaped, and very scattered trees. One random tree here one random tree there in a plane of 8ft tall brown grass. Lions; you know they are just lurking in the grass waiting to eat you, no matter what the locals tell you about the army having eaten all of them during the wars. Scorpions. Snakes. Thousands of varieties of insects; and thousands of each variety. Parched earth. Dust. Smoke from people burning the grass (some random annual tradition, or perhaps protection strategy since armies have a hard time concealing themselves in the open).

Think of the not so subtle rumble of diesel generators burning the fossil fuels that are allowing me to write this. Or of having a bunch of Dinka staff that don’t speak English (and I sure don’t speak Dinka) wandering around with their traditional scars on their foreheads, making them resemble skinny Klingons. Wow, a Star Trek reference.

For those of you that know Vernon (lean by our standards) he would be considered well nourished with his 6’3” frame and 160lbs by the Dinka’s standards. The Dinka’s are of a similar height to him and I (6’4”). At my 200lbs, I am called fat. In fact I have since my arrival, been called the white Dinka, the fat Dinka, and the white and fat Dinka.

One day when leaving the field on my last trip and standing in front of the compound waiting for the car to take me to the airstrip, these Dinka’s came running to me as they had been told that there was a white man taller than they were. My resemblance to the Dinka’s is not the biggest stretch, with my once lean frame and buckteeth, I really only have the skin colour that differentiates me.

40kms away is the birthplace and childhood town where Manute Bol grew up, famous Sudanese NBA basketball player, if memory serves me right he used to be the tallest NBA player at a bit over 7’6”. There is also a famous model from Tyra Banks and Naomi Campbell era, named Alek Wek Deng, from this area as well.

To return to the picture: Think of the 8 ready for safari Landcruisers sitting in front of the compound at dusk, with the sun going down over the Intensive Therapeutic Feeding Care clinic in the background. Picture the Doctors and other medical staff sitting fiddling with their short wave radios trying to catch a bit of news from their home countries. Or perhaps of the nationals playing a match of volleyball, donated by either MercyCorps or Shave the Children, as the heat of day subsides and the sun starts to decline into the dust filled sky.

Add to this the men sitting around their shisha/hookah pipes smoking scented tobacco. Always on the alert listening on their HF/two way radios. Are they needed somewhere? Perhaps they can ignore this call? The best parts of the day are mid afternoon where the wind starts blowing a bit, bringing a much-needed cool breeze to the camp.

But, with every good comes bad. The breeze always comes from the East, coincidently so are the latrines. For the new compound currently in construction, the latrines are on the Western wall.

Think of relying on satellite for all communication to the capital and Geneva HQ. Think of talking on a sat phone, knowing you can’t walk and talk, or be inside. Or imagine the frustration when you can’t get through and you need to, or worse when you do and the call drops and you have to repeat the process all over again. Try to dream of living and having your storage in tents, for months. Giant white canvas tents, and even with shadow nets the inside can and usually does reach 50 C.

For me, I love to be in the field, even with the heat, the plastic sheeting and shadow nets. The poor conditions and not exactly gourmet food, the struggle and challenges of it all are the fun parts. The challenges of management that are my day-to-day struggle in Juba are less fun. But to be fair, my attitude has changed. I am more positive, I have to be, I couldn’t last the three-four months here if I didn’t.

Think of all of this, and perhaps you might get to experience a bit of Africa and not have to leave the comfort of home. Ahhh, some days I wish I had done that.