Local tukuls


Saturday 26th June

Finished work a little earlier today at 4pm, so three of us decided to take a short stroll through the bush as it was such a lovely evening. There are three main tracks leading to different villages. Each track is about the width of two bicycles. The only means of transport to these places in the past has been by foot, now there are a few bikes and one or two small motor bikes. It’s hard to imagine that every single thing in and out of these places has been carried, mostly on the head, by the women who usually have a small baby in a goat skin over their shoulder too.

It is good to get out of the hospital and appreciate what sort of lives some of our local community lead. It helps to understand how hard it must be for them to come to a hospital like ours.

It is like stepping back in time, as though we should not really be there. I saw nothing from my century, no plastic bottles, no rubbish, the kids play in the dirt, and enjoy splashing in the puddles. I would like to have been invisible so the locals did not feel as though they were being studied.

They seem to be in small family groups with their goats and chickens. The tukuls (huts) are well maintained and the hard-packed earth outside is well swept. They all have a hollow log outside with a large stick like pestle, where they grind the grain to make flour for their porridge. Also there were piles of Lulu fruit laid out to dry. Some have sorghum growing, which, in a few weeks time, will be well above our heads; it is just so green and fertile. The ground nuts are also now showing their heads (peanuts).

It is hard to understand why more people are not trying to grow their own food, as there is so much poverty in this area and nothing to purchase in the market. Saying all this, they greeted us warmly and always shake your hand. They say something, we say something back, neither of us understands but all smile, and laugh and then get on with their job at hand.

All the children look quite healthy, mostly naked apart from some beads around their tummies and their necks. I wonder if these children will ever know a different life, although they are happy at the moment. Will they ever see a tall building, an aeroplane, the ocean, and all these things that we can't even grasp that there are people who don't know about them. Does it matter? That is our world not theirs.

Sunday 27th June

Mapuordit, the village where the hospital is situated, is just so different from these other areas, only a few kilometres apart. Here, the children are in western torn rags, very dirty, a bit cheeky, wanting pens, money, not as healthy looking, rubbish everywhere, green stagnant water surrounding the market. Their huts are not as well kept. Animals roam the area. Children are drinking Coca Cola, Pepsi, Fanta, sucking lollies if they are ever given any money. Is this what we are doing to them? It could be the Northern Territory with our Aboriginal population.

Sorry, it is Sunday, perhaps it is a day for thinking. There was a prayer rally today in the market which involved a band of hallelujah dancers, drummers and Church of Christ, or perhaps Pentecostal, groups (not sure), leading a procession around the area through the hospital grounds, drumming up the locals to come and join them in prayer. By 2-30pm there would have been around 100 adults and perhaps the same number of children. Lots of singing in Dinka and clapping - all seemed to get something out of it, whether it was for the faith or the spectacle it was hard to say.

Well, our long awaited chicken lunch in the market which I had already given the restaurant cook 20 pounds ($10) to purchase a chicken with, turned out to be very tough beef!! You win some you lose some, but the gravy was delicious + 3 bread rolls. Desperate for some veg - I dream of green.