I’m back in Rome now, after six months in Juba.
It’s taken a while to adjust. My stomach for one has not returned easily to normal fare after goat meat and rice. But I’m not complaining. In fact, my time in South Sudan has made me feel incredibly grateful.
So many things have made me cry, ‘So lucky!’ since I’ve returned: hot water, clean water, vegetables that you can just wash and cook, yellow-yoked eggs, the cinema, classic architecture, good affordable education and yes, even politicians who resign.
Looking back, I can say, while it was tough and tested all my resources, it was a positive experience.
Many people were generous with their life stories – fishermen in Terekeka, cattleherders in Torit and women farmers in Morobo (Ha – thought I’d misspelt the title, didn’t you) and I know I was lucky in many other ways.
I met some wonderful people, workmates, who for a few months generously guided me through the realities of South Sudan. There was Schola, who shared her mandazi; Data, who listened kindly; Lokai, who went to get telephone cards for me even on Sunday in the midday sun; just to name a few.
A friend once told me life was about making memorable moments. And I certainly have plenty of those:
A work colleague (with the characteristic tribal scarring, missing teeth and lisp of the Dinka tribe) translating for me during an interview with an ex-soldier, ‘I’m Jean from PAO. I’m porty-pour.”
Tall young fishermen on a riverbank of the White Nile, covered in orange mud, gathering around me to ask why I dyed my hair red and didn’t have tattoos, as nearby the driver broke out laughing.
And a good-bye party for some other colleagues, where my male workmates danced for hours as dusk fell. It was dancing as I’ve never seen it before – rhythmic, joyful, contagious!
So South Sudan, I’ll never regret or forget my time with you. Good-bye. Good luck. I wish you all the best.
©Jean Di Marino 2012
