Camboni Brothers

The Camboni Brothers are not too happy with us right now.

First, Ed broke their internet, and in the process broke one of their computers. To make matters worse, we couldnt fix it until Saturday. Strike One.
Then poor Neesha had night terrors because of her mefloquin and ended up waking up Brother Voney, who came over to the women's dorm and made sure no one was actually shuffling creepily up and down the hallway outside her door. This is in addition to the fact that we got back from dinner at eleven pm and the women's dorm was locked, so someone had to wake up to let us in (and did Ed help us at all? No. He gave us orders from inside his room in his boxers). Now Neesha is too scared to sleep alone so we switched rooms for the night. But the sisters are not pleased. Strike Two. Hopefully we dont accidentally murder their cats or spoil all their food or break one of the buildings between now and Wednesday.
We tried to make it up by giving them body wash from Ed's suitcase but i feel like body wash isnt enough to smooth over destroying their connection to the outside world and then terrorizing them during the night.

Last night we finally got internet but unfortunately by the time we were done checking a week's worth of mail, it was really late at night and we hadnt had dinner. This was a problem because most places close by ten and it was nine thirty. Apparently we either get internet or food, but not both. Someone told us about a pizza place for foreigners where they are open late so we drove around trying to find it-in the dark (no street lights). We passed a whole bunch of UN trucks and figured that must have been the place but we couldnt see where there was light so we drove past it and down the street. Right into an SPLA compound with a whole bunch of guys with rifles slung over their shoulders. Ed is going “Is there food here? Lets eat here!” and from the backseat we are all nervously saying “Uh...no. Wait.” Thankfully Father Voney asked directions and we turned around and found The Village.
It was an expat club pretty much. It was behind this fence, and completely made of bamboo and grass huts and there were more white people (khawajas) there than I have seen in any one place anywhere in Sudan. They were playing pounding music (Akon, Ace of Bace, Eminem, Will Smith, and this horrendous rap techno remix of Michelle by the Beatles). We got pizza and beer and felt awkward because the UN workers were staring at us. Ed had made this joke with the waiter when we first sat down about not tipping him if he didnt give us a good exchange rate, which clearly isnt the best way to get good service. I think our waiter came to our table a grand total of three times, each an hour apart.
Father Voney told us about thetime that a party he was holding in a refugee camp was attacked by gunmen, which was heartbreaking and scary and made us all feel very humble and inferior. It is unbelievable how brave people here are. They have been through more than you can possibly imagine and they act like it is nothing. I've never seen anything like it.

This morning, Ed tried to convince me that if I was truly a generous person, I should leave my Ipod here for Bishop Paride to help him stay awake while driving. I have several problems with this idea. A. Music isnt particularly helpful to stay awake when you are very tired, especially when you are also 72 years old. B. How would he charge it? C. He would definatly hate my taste in music.
Now I'm sitting in the computer room, and outside it sounds like two goats are killing each other. Next to me is a kitten who is asleep and adorable on the only nice chair in the office. It is muggy and hot since it poured rain yesterday. George and Ed are arguing about Google Earth Pro and whether or not it is useless (answer: it is) and Ed is desperately trying to get me to learn how to use a voltage measure.