01/08/2019
Cowboys Of South Sudan ®
REPORTfrom Action Contre la Faim France Published on 01 Aug 2001
American fieldworker Pascal Echeverri writes about his mission in Sudan, a country plagued by nearly 2 decades of civil war.
As my sleepy eyes first touched the Nairobi plains in the wee hours of April, her verdant valleys immediately warmed me with their bright green glow. I knew right there and then that leaving Burbank to work with the people of East Africa was a good decision. The ride through Nairobi to the Action Against Hunger guesthouse afforded me a quick glimpse of the city; relative deprivation has come to characterize the Kenyan capital. Shiny office buildings shimmering in the morning sun stand in striking contrast to the polluted sea of rusted roofs, which mark the refuge for most of the city's poverty-stricken inhabitants. In some places, the shantytowns seemed to go on forever. Although I knew where I was heading would be far poorer.
In two days I was in Lokichokio. This makeshift relief outpost in Northern Kenya was like no place I had ever seen before. Nothing out of Hollywood could match the consternation of this place. Inside the compound walls was a buzz of activity as people moved hurriedly from place to place, orchestrating their missions of mercy. There were planes and vehicles of all sizes, with UN and various NGO logos painted all over them. Those devoted birds would be my taxies to South Sudan.
Outside of the compound walls, the Turkana of North Kenya wandered languidly in the mid-day sun, surely wondering, "When will our turn come?" It was a sobering sight as we loaded flights with umpteen metric tons of relief items for the war-ravaged people of South Sudan, yet right here, not more than 50 yards from the runway, were villages of small igloo-shaped huts made of old plastic sacks and scraps of wood and brush that barely hold needy families of 6 or more together. "Clearly", I thought, "We need more resources to help these people too." As I come to know the world of development and emergency relief better, I see how many obscured places and poor people will be passed by, forgotten, and left to die... all because of an embarrassing lack of funds. "So much can be done, with such a relatively small sacrifice from we, the rich and powerful nations of the world... why don't we do it?" This is a question that haunts me all the time now.
As I climbed out of the Buffalo transport that flew me into South Sudan, I was hit with a wave of heat I haven't felt since I was a young boy traveling from California to Arizona. Yet, there was something different about this heat; there was a feeling of dry desolation in the air. Crowds of motley dressed people were waiting to greet me on the landing strip, which was nothing more than a lean, crimson piece of land that the locals had recently cleared of trees and brush so that the large bird could land and deliver her eggs. There were people of all ages - men, women, boys and girls. They were semi-clothed in an odd jumble of 1980's hand-me-downs of all colors and sizes. Most were barefoot and many of the younger were without any clothing at all.
As I started to make my way through the crowd, shaking hands with my new friends, I noticed how tall and skinny they were - half-dressed beanpoles, with big smiles and beaming eyes. Intermingled were older men on crutches - men with one leg, or one arm, blind men; men who had risked their lives and sacrificed a body part in their struggle for freedom. I also met several young men carrying automatic weapons and sporting pleasant grins, but concealing painful sores; young men that would one day soon take the place of their dead and crippled elders. In that short period of time, I really gained a good appreciation for how few possessions these people have, how long they have fought unnoticed, and yet how much hope they hold in their hearts.
The people of South Sudan have been fighting for freedom for the better part of the last 50 years - from 1956 to 1972, and from 1983 to the present - generating an outpouring of internally displaced persons, widows, orphans and disabled. Prolonged hostilities have shattered regional food security, and access to supplies and services have been severely diminished. Food is often used as a weapon of war, and as often is the case, women and children are those who suffer the most; I know it, I saw it.
I was there to conduct the first emergency food distribution program the region had seen in the last four years. It was my job to distribute 35.5 metric tons of maze, sorghum, beans, assorted tools and fishing equipment to 3,500 beneficiaries living in the region... and I was totally psyched to do it.
The Neur people of the Upper Nile Region of South Sudan were clearly happy to have me there. They have known such hardships for so long, that they made no attempt to hide their gratitude. At one distribution, a chorus of no less than 17 women gathered in front of me, formed a semi-circle, and honored me with an enchanting song of thanks and praise. I was totally high. It was the most melodious sound to have ever graced my ears and one of the most amazing gifts I have ever received. I shall never forget the women of Wanglel for it.
As the rainy season was closing in and the planting season was at its zenith, I had about 2 weeks to get these goods to the people who needed them most. To accomplish this task, I moved by boat up and down the Po River, a tributary to the Nile. I would meet flight deliveries at various locations, organize warehouses, stay for two days, plan, and then conduct the distributions and move on. It was important that I move fast (hit and run is the term we use) to gain access to the beneficiaries before word got out that a food distribution was underway. One of the biggest obstacles is staying one step ahead of regional warlords and governmental militias who, as you may imagine, are quite attracted to the prospect of free food and tools. I'm happy to say, the plan worked out well.
It would prove to be both the most challenging and most rewarding duty I have ever known. It was my first mission - I'm hooked now, and I'm not leaving. Living out of tents and eating tins of beans, I braved teeming swamps at 4 am and trekked blistering plains to reach my destinations and get the goods out to my Neur brothers and sisters. Through this action, we have helped reduce the vulnerability to food shortages of an estimated 21,000 vulnerable people now residing in the Old Fangak and Mareang Districts of the Phou State of South Sudan.
Sometimes I would stay in compounds for a few days at a time where, when not organizing a distribution, I would sit and get to know the people. Oftentimes I would give my clothes away to those who clearly needed them (which was just about everyone).
It was kind of funny to see young James and Moses walking around in the boxer shorts I had brought but not yet used. They were the only new clothes they had ever owned, and they paraded them proudly. Speaking with these two boys, I understood how limited their opportunities were. They both looked at me for help. At only 14, and with a shaky command of English, they told me how they longed to attend school, but how there were no schools in their regions. They saw me as an influential savior, the one that would get them to Nairobi, and enrolled in school. Can you imagine how hard it was to explain to these young boys that I am but a humble relief worker, working on a modest salary who would love to help them, but can't? Do you think they understood? Do you think they believed me?
Though young and not formally educated, these boys have a unique perspective on their situation. They know that I come from a profusely wealthy nation and that, though I may not have the financial means to help them, I do have the means to get their message out. And that's what I promised to do.
So I come to you in the names of young James and Moses, and for all the disadvantaged and broken peoples of South Sudan, and beg you to please find it in your hearts to make a donation to Action Against Hunger, and join the battle today. Be it for Sudan or Serbia, I wish you would help me to prove that the American people really do care. Together, we have the ability and the courage to create opportunities for life to suffering people, the world over. Be a global hero; invest in humanity.
Pascal Echeverri (Burbank, California, currently in Somalia)
Give now to support Action Against Hunger's emergency programs Sudan.
Sudan's civil war has caused more than 1.5 million deaths and displaced more than 4 million people. Action Against Hunger has been working in Sudan since 1985.
