Nimule Part Two

From Loa we arrived in Nimule. Unlike Torit, Nimule is set down a single main street-the Juba road, which goes from Juba (and beyond) to Uganda, and is the sole source of life and wealth going through the towns it touches. We got to the Diocese and pulled in, and our convoy was instantly greeted by a grinning American girl. She looked completely taken aback to see us, and when we pulled in and parked, four more came out of the woodwork. It turns out that they are five American Menninite/Brethren college students working in the schools (and in agro-forestry) through a (somewhat radical) non-profit called New Community Project. They’ve been here for the summer and they leave in two weeks. They are very nice and have taken us around and told us a lot about their experiences in Nimule. They got to live here and really get to know people so they have had a great chance to get to know the town and settle into life here.
For dinner the first night we had chicken which was so delicious. Its easy to get chicken in Nimule, and pork too which I was really impressed by. I haven’t seen pork at all in Torit, and here you see huge pigs wandering around across the road. I took a shower (the dirt from the road had dyed me about two shades darker than my normal color) and helped shape bread with this woman named Margaret (who is in secondary school and helps with the cooking and greeted me with a HUGE hug).
The next morning we got up and had breakfast (pumpkin!) and tried to figure out what to do with ourselves for the day. Jerome wanted to wash the car, so we went to the Nile. This was actually a result of mixed messages between us and Jerome-as both of us thought it would be easier to wash it at the compound, and that the other one wanted to wash it at the Nile. The Nile bank was incredibly muddy and bordered by slippery rocks. Several women were washing clothing by the bank and laying the clothing out on the rocks that scattered the ground, and a couple of young men were sitting on a log partly in the water, washing their clothing and bathing themselves. A man with a big pointed bamboo stick stood by, scanning the water, and two trucks with Chinese characters on the side and long hoses stretching to the water, pumped the Nile into a truck to take to town. Jerome almost fell in the mud and then almost got the car stuck in the mud trying to back it up closer to the bank, and while he worked on that, we watched the guys swimming. One of them leapt into the water and instantly had his shorts shucked off by the current. His friends laughed hysterically at him while he scrambled around trying to find them, until finally a woman on the bank threw him a pink dress which he wrapped around himself, looking bashful. His friend jumped into the Nile from further down the bank, buck naked and swam over to him, holding his shorts.
Ultimately we drove back to the compound, realizing that washing the car with Nile water would be an incredibly lengthy process. Once back at the compound, Jerome washed the car and I took a shower. After lunch (fish fish fish and more fish-that’s what you get for being by the Nile), I did some laundry. Then we walked down to the soccer pitch to watch the soccer game. There was a game of monkey in the middle going on (curtsey of Maria and Larissa, two of the Americans) and George joined in-getting stuck in the middle and causing all the children to shriek with laughter. I stayed off to the side and was soon swarmed by children, all staring at me and pushing each other back and forth towards me. I tried to talk to them, using first Mahdi (which was a pathetic attempt, completely mispronounced), then Arabic, then English. It was fun, even if it wasn’t particularly successful. After that we went up to visit one of the nieces of the Bishop who was named Mary. She was there, along with three other ladies, and they were sitting on a mat outside of the house, listening to the radio and embroidering. The hill they lived on reminded me a lot of Ireland. I sat on the mat next to one girl, whose name I don’t think I ever learned and who I am going to call Alice. She was embroidering a blue sheet, and a pink sheet lay at my feet. The designs were really incredible, so intricate and elaborate. Mary showed me how to do the stitches and set me to work. Alice tried to grab a duckling so that I could hold it, but then the mother duck attacked her and the duckling got so scared that it pooped all over her. I felt bad. Jerome made us leave after a while, so I didn’t get to embroider that long, but when we got back to the compound I borrowed Sarah’s (one of the Americans) sewing kit and mended my skirt which had torn in a couple of different places. I felt quite self sufficient, even if I did botch the first mending section. Mark Amoko showed up and Jerome disappeared with him. George and Neesha and Father Mawa walked over to CRS to see if we could get internet and contact Father Vuni (I left my passport in Torit and we wanted to go to Kampala) but they told us to come back later. Internet is a big problem in the Nimule Diocese, and is very difficult to come by. When they got back, we wandered over to the bar in the compound (can you believe there is a bar in the compound?) and had some beers (Neesha had milk). The fathers were having some beers too and discussing business. Neesha and George walked back to go to sleep and Mark told me that Father Mawa was willing to treat us to one more round, so I stayed with him and Jerome and we had another beer and walked back, and went to sleep.
The next morning I took a shower (fantastic water pressure here, and almost warm water!) and had breakfast. We were going to attempt to go to Fula Falls to see the elephants, but instead ended up fixing the car. Mark had bought us a new oil filter, so while him and Neesha worked on his car, changing the tire, George, Jerome and I worked on the oil filter. It was so much fun! George and I spent about an hour attempting to get the original filter to come off (so unsuccessful, I cant even tell you) while Jerome drained the oil from the tank. It was only after an hour of tugging and twisting and pulling and pushing that Mark came over and showed us how to rig a rope around the filter and pull on a tire iron to get it to come off. After that, we screwed on the new one and put in new oil and pulled off the fuel filter and replaced that as well. When the oil change was done, we poured the diesel from the fuel tank onto our hands to wash them. We also helped Mark try and get a plastic top off of a filter, and in the process I got goudged with a screw driver a couple times in my thumb (we used diesel again, to disinfect the wounds, which were bleeding kind of profusely), but it was the most satisfying work ever. I took another shower (needless to say, I was covered in oil and diesel) and then after lunch I washed a huge amount of clothes for Neesha, George, Jerome and I. Neesha helped, but of course the second we were ready to hang the clothing out to dry, a thunderstorm came through, so the clothes ended up sitting in a bucket for most of the day before I hung them out at night (where it rained.)
Neesha went off to rest and George and Jerome and I ran up the street (or so I thought) on a quick trip to get some oil for the car, but it ended up being a two hour escapade, wherein Neesha thought we had abandoned her to go to the hospital and we spent an hour welding the hood of the car, again. George and I managed to get internet at this “internet café” (really, a glorified lean-to hut, with a computer on a wooden chair and a cell phone plug hooked in the side. Somehow, they were able to tap into the cell tower network and translate it into internet, and it actually worked! I was so impressed, I cant even tell you. It was a completely surreal experience to be sitting in a shed made entirely of papayrus, watching the rain pound down outside, being surrounded by nothing but more sheds and warehouses, and be able to access Gmail.
While the car was being welded, I chatted with these young boys, and an older boy came up to me (told me he was 21, looked 14) and told me I should marry his brother who was at school in Kampala. I told him I’d make an awful wife since I cant cook, but he told me I would learn. I saw him in the market two days later, and he came over and said hi. He was really nice, if a bit sketchy, but it was nice to have a friend in the market that recognized me.
When we got back, we picked up Neesha and headed off to a bar with a guy named Patrick. It was called the Nile View and it was right by Mary’s house. We sat there and had beer and soda, and about twenty minutes in, Mark showed up with a small bird tied to a string which was flapping around his head. He gave it to me to hold, and it sat in my hand and I stroked it’s head and it fell asleep. At least I thought it was falling asleep-as it turns out I think that stroking a bird’s head crushes its brain, and it died later that night, but Mary had given it to Mark to give to me as a present, and I named it Toto (Kiswahili for Baby) and it hung out in my hand or on my shouler for most of the night.
Ed called partway through our drinking fiesta and pretty much told us we weren’t allowed to go to Kampala, and argued with George. I talked him down a bit and Neesha completely changed the topic when she talked to him and I thought we had decided it was ok for us to go to Kampala and he hung up thinking we had decided it was not ok for us to go to Kampala, so there was a bit of the mixed messaging about that. I’ll talk more about the almost trip to Kampala later. Anyway after talking to Ed, Patrick ordered us some spiced beef, cassava, cabbage and tomatoes which we all munched on (the cassava was the best) while watching an Indian Bollywood film from the eighties which was awful. You cannot imagine how bad this movie was. At about nine, we went back to the compound, and the girls asked us how we had found something to do until nine at night. We ate dinner, and sat around outside visiting. My bird died, which freaked me out completely because it was dead in my hands for a good five minutes before someone pointed that out. We couldn’t figure out why it died, so we went with old age.
Then we all went over to the bar in the compound and bought a big bottle of Uganda Warage, the Spirit of Uganda, a white rum. We also picked up some cokes and fantas and brought them back to the compound where we sat outside and made mixed drinks. They were bad. They were really bad. George had the idea that if you mixed Warage with Krest Bitter Lemon soda, it would taste just like a gin and tonic (it probably wouldn’t have since Warage isn’t gin, and also they were out of Krest-so no go). Jerome drank them straight, George with Coke, me with Fanta. Neesha and Mark had soda. Jerome is use to this so he was fine. George was apparently secretly trying to outdrink Jerome and ended up being hammered and unhappy by the end of the night. I managed to swallow down one drink but that was it. Mark told us a long and incredibly romantic story about how he met his wife Edith. It was ridiculously romantic. It was a love at first sight extravaganza, spanning two years, starting on a bus station platform and ending in marriage. He has actually found true love. George was tearing up. That’s how intense this story was. It was kind of utterly depressing too, because I feel like that kind of love is so rare. That’s why they make movies about it. We kept trying to stress to him how incredible that story was and he just kept brushing it off but it was probably the most romantic and awe-inspiring story I have ever heard of “how we met”. It culminated in an argument with Jerome about second wives, particularly when you have the kind of true love Mark does. Everyone went to bed except George and I. I had a kitten asleep on my shoulder and George was wasted. We had a really great conversation, with him being drunk and me being amused, and I helped him get to bed and put a basin by his bed in case he threw up and went to sleep with the kitten on my bed. She is about two or three months old and missing her mother, but she falls asleep when she is on my lap which is adorable. She started to cry halfway through the night and I kicked her out but she crawled in under the door and attacked Neesha’s bed, so she ended up back with me.