Third World Journalism

I spoke in Senegal about the difficulty of journalism in that part of the world - heavy African accents, translation, difficult phone lines - and that was when I was working with a UN office. Here, mostly on my own, I have experienced a whole set of other difficulties. To replicate a sound-proof booth in which I would record my voice narration for a radio script in Canada, I turned off my fan in my room in Khartoum, sat between a folded mattress and threw a sheet over my head. As I sat there sweating in the heat, trying to record my voice in silence, the maids would start chatting outside my thin walls, or the adhan would come on. So you wait, until you get some form of quiet, and try again. It's really quite entertaining.

What else is different about work here? Well in Juba, my main form of transport was the back of a motorcycle, through bumpy, muddy streets that are sometimes impassable, although the drivers always try. To save on gas, they turn the engine off and just coast if they are going down hill and then turn it back on as they start to lose momentum.

In southern Sudan, access to very important politicians is quite easy. It's a new, semi-autonomous government, built from scratch in 2005 after a peace deal with the northern government they had been fighting for two decades. One day, I stopped by the office for press relations for the Vice President to try to schedule an interview. I found a Canadian Sudanese working there, who immediately liked me because I was Canadian, and tried to get me a spot with the Big Man. All of a sudden, I found myself in the Vice President's office - and he goes, "You want to do it right now? I'm free." It was as easy as that!

The hardest part about working in a post-conflict society, I would say, is winning people's trust. As a North-American and as an Arab, people are skeptical of me. Right across the country, people resent the West as they see its interference as the root of problems in Sudan. In the south, people are suspicious of Arabs, who dominate the northern government and with whom they have had many problems historically. When you start asking a lot of questions, they wonder if you are a spy working for the government. In many cases, in the areas where there is a big humanitarian presence, people have already been asked questions by NGOs, the UN, etc. and don't want to do it all over again. So when little old Heba shows up and sticks a microphone in someone's face, they are often not keen to participate! ... That being said, once you spend the time, win the trust and convince them of your purpose, they usually come around. I often get the reaction, "You came all the way from Canada? Why did you leave your wonderful country to come to this?" When they realize I am trying to help spread the word about their living conditions, they are quite cooperative.

I did however find myself in a bit of a bind recently, when I talked to some members of the Dinka tribe along the border with Uganda. There have been problems in that area over land. During the war, people fled to Uganda as refugees leaving their land empty. Then, as the fighting progressed to other parts of the country, Sudanese living further north fled their homes and settled in this empty land along the border. Now, when the refugees come home, they find people on their land, and this understandably, has led to come tension. So I tried to raise this issue with the chiefs of the Dinka community, who were among those who settled on the land. They were quite defensive, and within minutes, I found myself surrounded by big tall men screaming at me. "You come from the West and try to create divisions among us!" Needless to say, I got out of there as fast as I could!

But then I had to stop and think about whether he was right. I told myself, as I told him, that my goal was not to divide, but to find the truth in order to help come to some kind of resolution. But regardless of my goal, is division not the result?

If you think back historically, many of the problems in Darfur have their roots in the British style of rule - control in the center and some form of self-rule, which resulted in neglect, in the peripheries. Some trace the origins of problems between north and south to British rule as well. One govt consultant blamed all of Sudan's problems on the US sanctions, which forced Sudan into an untenable financial situation, isolated from the world economically. As a result, he told me, the govt had no money to invest in its country, and people took up arms, tearing the country apart. "For the West to come back now and say the government has neglected its people... it's bullshit." Of course now, with countries coming in to reap the benefits of the booming oil industry, you can understand why many people say, as one taxi driver told me recently, "Sudan would be perfectly fine if all these people got the hell out of our country!"

Tired of Goodbye

If there are two things I don't like about this lifestyle, they are being far from friends and family, and constantly saying goodbye. I just spent two and a half weeks in Juba, capital of southern Sudan, where I unexpectedly had a truly amazing time. Wayne and his group of friends were just such a welcome change from the isolation of Khartoum, and being there felt like being back at camp where you hang out with the same people everyday and get to know each other very quickly. When I flew back to Khartoum today, I felt like I had just popped out of an alternate reality - one full of Filipino Kareoke parties, campfire under the stars, dancing to loud music and a close-knit group of great people.

But of course, it all comes to an end so quickly. And the goodbyes become exhausting. When I look back on all the great and interesting people I have met - and never seen again - in the last four years, it makes me sad. I know it shouldn't. Yes, yes. You learn something from everyone you meet. They play their role in your life and then move on. And it's a small world - you never know where you might re-encounter an old friend. But sometimes I just feel that I am never moving forward. I invest in these friendships and then lose them. So instead of having a foundation with someone and building on it, you are constantly cracking the foundation and starting over. It's all short-lived and temporary and that is so unsatisfactory sometimes.



That being said, I have great memories (and plenty of pictures) to looks back on. Above is Charita, a Filipino police officer who is part of the UN Mission in Sudan, and I climbing a mountain just outside of Juba town. To the left is Wayne, the RCMP officer who I have come to know more than I ever anticipated, and I singing kareoke - can't you see the sadness in my eyes!


On another note, this experience has been eye-opening on another level. I have plenty to say about the UN and its employees after this "embedded" experience at the UN compound in southern Sudan. I can't reveal such information here to "protect the innocent", as Wayne and Mark put it, but ask me about it later and I'll give you my two cents!

Staying in Sudan

I just realized that today is August 2nd, the day I was supposed to fly home. So I should probably mention that I've decided to stay in Sudan longer than expected (Yes, I know, you all saw this coming).

I have been putting off picking a place in Africa and settling down as a foreign correspondent for a while now, mostly out of fear. So it's about time I face that fear and just do it! I am here now, there is no point in coming home and then coming back again when I am "ready". So I am going to give it a go!

Sudan is the perfect country for me. I speak Arabic, there are TONS of stories, it is close to Egypt, and it is an important part of the world right now, and an important time in Sudan's history. I have already started making contacts and so on here, so I think there's no time like the present to build on that.

For now, I've changed my ticket to December, when I will come back to Canada for a visit and then possibly return to Sudan afterwards. Of course, these decisions are never easy - and I hate being away from all the people I care about. I struggle with the consequences of this lifestyle all the time, but I think that the temporary sacrifices are worth the gain. But do not think for a minute - even when I stay out of touch for way longer than I should - that I do not think about you or miss you every day!

I will try to do a better job of keeping you updated from now on - it's not always easy, due to lack of access, constant travel, immersion in life here and simply exhaustion from too much work. But I'll do my best! Love always, Heba

In Flight!

I rode on my first UN chopper this week, as I travelled from Juba, capital of southern Sudan to a town further north called Bor. In the rainy season (ie. now), many of the roads in southern Sudan are untravelable because they get all flooded and muddy. So in many cases, the only way to get around is by plane.

The ride was pretty amazing actually. You have to wear earphones to mute the sound of the helicopter's wings. Once in flight, they open the small circular windows and the fresh air just flows through. Southern Sudan is totally green, so from the plane, all you see is trees, sometimes a cattle-herder or two, a couple toucols (homes made of mud and straws). It was really beautiful.

I spent a couple days in Bor, talking to people about the insecurity there. Sudan is just so complex. Even though the war between north and south Sudan is over (separate from the Darfur issue of course), unrelated tribal fighting continues to make southern Sudan unstable. Different tribes raid each other's cattle, abduct children and even burn villages - in some cases it is a sign of manhood to kill someone, in some cases they steal the cows to offer them as dowry for marriage. Anyways, so people who were displaced during the war have finally returned home in this time of peace, only to be displaced again in some cases.

When I told people in Juba I was going to Bor, everyone made that "Oh, Bor" face as if it was the worst place to visit on the face of the planet. But in fact, it was quite nice. Like many other parts of southern Sudan, it is in total reconstruction - new roads going up every day. Still, though, you can't go an hour without having to stop the car because cattle have filled the road. And the facilties are still limited. Only the market and the government offices have electricity, and even the UN staff get their water from a borehole run by a hand-pump. Here I am pumping away, with an Argentinian UN peacekeeper behind me. More and more here, I have been impressed with the internationalism of this place. The different natioanlities really do work together in a beautiful way. In one office , you can find someone from Holland, Canada, Guinea, Nigeria, India... and they find ways to joke and relate to each other.

I'm back in Juba now, just in time for party weekend. There's a party tonight so big that people have flown in from Khartoum for the occasion (which speaks to the desperation of the social scene in Khartoum). Here's a pic from a few of us out for dinner the other day. Ralph from Britain, Charita from the Philippines, me, and Mark from Australia. The pizza was good, but took about an hour to arrive, and when it did, it was the wrong toppings of course. That's Africa for you.

A new day has come!

Things are looking up! It had been a long few days. Every night, I'd think 'It will be better in the morning', but I would wake up unmotivated and the day would go by frustratingly. It felt like I was in a slump I just couldn't get out of - I wasnt writing. I wasn't doing anything really. The day before I left for southern Sudan, something changed. I woke up happy and actually accomplished a most impossible mission. I had bought a phone to replace my dysfunctional one, from a random stall at the market. I got no receipt for it, went home and found out it doesn't charge. So I figured I'd go back and get it repalced. I took the bus to the "stade" as I had time before, but it dropped me off at a different end. If you can imagine, hundreds of busses parked in every which direction and a huge market. I had no idea where to go. So the fact that somehow, I was able to find my way back to the store was, in and of itself, remarkable. That I was able to find the same guy and that he gave me a new phone was even more so - and a sign for me that things were about to change for the better. Then I went home and wrote two articles.

I am writing this first part of this posting in my notebook on board the plane to Juba, capital of southern Sudan, and it feels so good to be out of Khartoum. Not that I don't like it there, but I needed a change and I wanted to do more reporting on the ground. Plus, southern Sudan is considered much more "African" than the Arab north, so it should be a different experience. Some people have express concern about me going - as an Arab - to a place that was at war with the Arab government for two decades. Southerners were taken as slaves, their villages burned, their women raped and men killed. A peace deal was signed in 2005, but tension remains between the north and the south, especially along the border. But if I get into any trouble, I'll just pretend I'm a Latina! Besides, I met the ambassador to the Arab League in the waiting room at the airport and he's Egyptian too! So I've got someone in power on my side!

So here is Juba! It's VERY different than Khartoum. Much greener, cooler, much less developed of course, although it is a booming economy with construction of new homes, hotels, buildings at every corner. Since the end of the war, people have been returning at an incredible pace. People here all have their own local dialects (Dinka, Nuer, etc), but Arabic is the common language between them, although it is native to none of them. They also speak English, although Arabic is more common.

I am staying at the UN base here. And is has been quite the experience. These are the "containers" that people work and live in. Rows and rows of them. Two days later, I still get lost everytime I have to go from one to another. Wayne has been an INCREDIBLE host, and there is such a nice group of guys here that I feel right at home. It's quite different than Khartoum, where the international community is quite clicky. It feels like being at camp actually - showering in common outdoor bathrooms, eating at the cafeteria, having a group of buddies that you hang out with regularly. Everyone complains about the social scene in khartoum, but here it definately isn't lacking and there are plenty of nice restaurants to go to at night. In fact, as I'm typing this, the UN compound's disco is blaring through the walls.

I think that's all for now. Just be re-assured that the bad days are over (for now!)

Hell in Sudan

At the risk of sounding overdramatic, these last few days have been hell, so prepare yourselves for a good rant. Everything that could go wrong has, and nothing has gone right. I can't even count the number of times I've just broken into tears in front of complete strangers - it usually helps you get what you want faster, actually.

The first step was going to the police station, then getting my old phone number back, then asking the airline if they could refund my ticket to the south (also stolen), then realizing the ticket hadn't been written on the list of stolen items on the police report, so back to the police station. Each of these trips, of course, costs time, money, and wears down on your patience as everyone wants to chat with you, ask you where you're from, what happened when the bag was stolen, etc - and you just want to finish your business and get the hell out of there. Back to the airline, they say the head of the office is at a different office - go to Street 15. I go to Street 15, they say he's at the airport. I go BACK to the airport... it goes on and on like this. The embassy was probably the worst of all. To issue me a new passport, they wanted a birth certificate and all sorts of original ID that of course, I didn't have. So my parents had to take some things to a Passport Canada office in Ottawa. I had to bus back downtown to get passport photos taken. Come back to the embassy only to have the guard tell me they're closed and won't let me in. Go back the next day. They tell me it will cost close to $300 to get the new passport. I don't have enough money with me. Add on another trip. Throughout this whole process, the phone I am using (a backup to the one that was stolen) is acting disfunctional. Today, I go buy a new one, only to get home and find that it doesn't charge itself - ie. it's broken.

Today, I realized I have been back in Khartoum for 11 days (at $50 a night I might add) and have achieved absolutely nothing. I need to accomplish something soon before my spirit is totally crushed. Today, I hired a translator to help me to through an interview I would use - they ask for so much money, and then they translate worse than I do on my own!


Ok, I think I have gotten it all out of my system. May tomorrow be a new day...

The Ultimate Mistake

It is the oldest trick in the book. I should have known better... I should have, I should have...


Yesterday, me, Ben (the Cdn journalist) and Omar (a Sudanese friend) were out for dinner and decided to go to a park to hang out. I was debating going home and doing work, but eventually agreed and went along. It's this cute thing lots of Sudanese do - they just sit of patches of grass smoking sheesha and drinking tea. It's like the only social activity there is to do here at night, other than go to a restaurant. So there we were on the grass, smoking sheesha when two guys came along. One of them picked up the sheesha and started pulling it away. Some of the coal fell on the ground. Someone said maybe he was angry that a woman was smoking sheesha. Someone else said he was just drunk and causing trouble. It was all very weird and I didn't really understand what was going on. Eventually, they left the sheesha and walked away - leaving us all a bit flabergasted as to what that was all about. But we carried on. Omar went to get tea. And I saw a lady carrying popcorn and turned to my purse to get out some money.

And that's when the fun began. My purse wasn't there. For a minute, I thought it was just me being paranoid, but I looked again - and it really wasn't. Immediately, I knew I had been robbed and I jumped up to go somewhere - but didn't know where to go or what to do. We were in a dark, crowded park. The guy was already long-gone. Where do you start looking?

We started randomly running around, trying to ask people - fruitlessly. Ben thinks others must have been in on it too (on top of the two guys who distracted us with the sheesha), since someone would obivously have seen him, but nobody said anything.

I was so lost. I just started running aimlessly. My passport, lots of cash, my digital camera, my phone - everything was in that bag. It was so stupid of me on so many levels, and I knew that, and I was so angry at myself.

When I first got here, I carried my passport, some of my cash, and a mastercard in a pouch that I wore under my clothing. Some money and other credit cards were in my purse, and the rest of the money stayed at home. As time went on, I became more and more comfortable here - it is so safe and I never had any problems - that I stopped bothering to wear the pouch. I should logically have left it at home, but I had gotten in the habit of taking it with me (at first I was staying in a hotel I didn't trust, and then I was often going to places where I needed official ID). So it was thrown into the purse with everything else. It is the thing everyone always tells you - don't let your guard down. But I did.

Someone afterwards said, "there are always thieves in these parks" and I felt stupid once more for not even considering that possibility. I wasn't even watching the purse, wasn't even worried about it.

So that drop in vigilance has cost me thousands of dollars, a camera that I need for work with pictures that I can't get back, and huge amounts of time that I don't have - as I now have to apply for a new passport, go through the process of getting a visa again, which is - after the prodigy child preacher - the most excrutiating experience ever (employees who could care less send you from one window to another to another until three hours later, you're ready to kill yourself), and delay my trip to the south, which was already way behind schedule.

When Celine and I went to Spain four years ago, people kept warning us of the thieves and that it was inevitable that we would be robbed at least once - never happened. Since then, I have been to many countries where this sort of thing could happen and never once had a problem. So I guess it was bound to happen eventually.

I'm safe and people have been very kind and helpful, so I guess that's what is important. But ugghhh - how frustrating!