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.