Stepping Out

I’ve already told you a bit about Davido, but I have to say I am grateful for him. And for Stacey. Between the two of them I got up the courage to go for a walk Saturday morning. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? I love walking and hiking.

Well, here’s the thing. All week I have been feeling wicked isolated and restless. I go from the compound I live at to the compound I work in. Back and forth. Nothing else really. And I see and interact with very few people. Not something I am used to. And I feel like I’m not truly seeing much of the community here, or of South Sudan.

So, by Thursday I am crawling the walls of the compound (not literally). I’ve had enough. Enough of feeling confined and isolated. I had already asked to go to lunch outside the work compound on Friday, instead of returning to my compound. Now I needed to make another move.

Stacey has been a great source of encouragement. And she gets my restless nature. She listens, encourages, and kicks my butt the way I need her to. So, when I whine to her about the situation, she tells me what I need to hear.

Friday when Davido is driving me, he again mentions playing soccer on Saturday. Again, he tells me I should come. I decide to take him up on this. When he drops me off at the compound Friday evening, we exchange numbers so we can meet up the next morning.

The thing is he wants to meet at 6am. At first this does not make sense to me. 6am on a Saturday?! I want to sleep. But this is what time they get there. Grudgingly I agree to 6:30. It will be light by then. And it means I can sleep just a smidge longer.

At 6:30 I walk to the soccer field. It is close to my compound and takes just a few minutes to get there on foot. But this is the first time I have walked outside the compound on my own. I have always had someone with me before now.

I was told to always have someone with me. All those security briefings I got before coming to South Sudan... However, I was also told very different things once I got to Yambio. I have chatted with several of the women from the US who have been here longer than I have, one of which has been here 6 years. They go out by themselves. Just be smart.

I’ve got this. I walk through the gates of the compound and out onto the dirt road that leads to the soccer pitch. The walk is quick and quiet. There are a few people on the road but not many. The dust has yet to be kicked up so the air is clear and cool. It’s in the 70s then. The perfect temperature.

At the soccer pitch there are two games underway already. Both groups are all males play soccer. The first group is younger, so I bypass them and walk towards the larger field. Here there are stone stands and I make my way onto them.

I watch the team play. A few people stop and look at me during a pause. Two wave. I have no idea who they are. I cannot tell from where I am standing if I know them. Here people wave a lot, and greet people. It is part of the culture. So, I don’t know if either person is Davido.

I decide to hang out and watch the game. There are a few other people watching, all guys. I am the only female around, that I can see. I am certainly the only white person around. This is not unusual. I am often the only white person around.

There are plenty of days where I don’t see another white person. It’s both weird and interesting. There are other white people here but we are few and far between. I’m actually glad of this. The culture has yet to be overrun with westerners. I’ll explain why I like that some other time, but for now understand that it means I get to see more of the authentic and real South Sudan. Not a commercial version of a country.

I watch the game. It is fast-paced and they are all energetic. A few minutes into it I hear a familiar voice out on the field. Pretty sure it is Davido. A few minutes later someone calls his name. Okay, I have figured out which player he is, though from where I am standing I cannot see his face but I do know his voice and I have figured out that this voice is wearing a red shirt with long blue socks and grey shorts. I watch Davido and the others play.

The game is briefly interrupted when a herd of cattle come walking through the pitch. None of the players seem confused or even put off by this. I, on the other hand, and both excited and confused when I see all of these cattle walking through the pitch. Naturally, I grab my phone and snap some photos.

After all of the cattle pass, the game starts as though nothing happened. However, there are small physical reminders in the form of cow pies on the field. Those are avoided. The game goes on. I don’t know what the score was, if they kept one. It was fun to watch and the players were all pretty good. I think they at least had one goal on each side.

And just as suddenly as the cattle came and stopped the game, the game again stops. The players are stretching and chatting with each other. They are done for the day. They start to head off the pitch towards where I am standing. I say hi to Davido and then another colleague from work who I didn’t realize was playing. Maybe these were the two people who waved at me when I got here. I don’t know.

But Davido makes a comment about why I am not working out, and instead watching the game. This is the second time he has made a comment about me working out or being a larger woman. The first was about me not squishing in the back seat of the truck with two other people and then about today exercising. I don’t know if I am being overly sensitive or if there is a language issue going on again (he and I do have some fun lost in translation moments), or if it was more a matter of just asking what I was doing. Whatever it was, I don’t sense any negativity or judgement in his statement. He goes back to the team and to chatting.

I decide that it is time for me to start exploring. How am I supposed to understand the culture and the people of the community I am living in and expected to treat if I barely see the people and I don’t experience their culture? One of the best ways I have always found, to learning about a place, is walking around, exploring, and wandering. I often did this in Galway and found I got to know it better and see more by doing this.

However, here things are different. Yambio has no paved road, no street signs, no maps. I know some of the roads from different drives I have gone on, to and from the hospital, PHC, and other offices, which helps a bit. I decide to start small and walk around the block nearest the pitch and near my compound.

It doesn’t take me long to figure out those roads. And I discover how to get to the market on foot. I also passed the giant pineapple on top of a large square South Sudan flag, that makes up one of the two roundabouts that I have found here. I use this as a point of reference. I know if I were to walk down one section of the road, I would get to the PHC, but I am not going to walk that way today.

I decide to head out in a different direction from the pitch once I walk the first lap. I take a side street that is rutted and eventually turns into a walking path. I have gone past it almost every day on the way to work. It is very pretty looking. This morning the sunlight is casting rays of light through some of the large trees on the sides of the road. I pass several people and many family compounds as I walk. There are also a few little shops along the walk.

At one point when the path all but seemed to disappear and like it might go into a yard. I was going to turn around. However, a man who had just passed me, gestured that I should keep walking. He told me that the path was up ahead and turned. He was right of course.

I followed the path as it curved. I passed several people. The village seemed to be waking up and starting its day. I spoke to a few people and said hi to many people. Many people watched me as I walked. The path came out on the main road near my compound. Alright! I know a little more. Even better, I saw more of the community.

I walked towards the compound but decided that since it was barely 8am I wanted to walk a little while longer. I turned around and once more headed in the direction of the pitch. A few people talked to me. One guy asked me if I needed a ride. Here taxis are motor bikes. They are everywhere. I told him I was good and headed on my way.

I ended up walking about half way to my office. It didn’t take me long. I could easily walk to work if I wanted to. I turned around and headed back, diverting slightly to try another road near the pitch. This one put me even closer to the market. Perfect.

I didn’t stop in the market but I made plans to. I will be grateful to go there and not feel rushed or like I am bothering my driver. I can take my time to explore and decide on what I really want to buy, not just grab things so we can leave. Plus, I can go on the weekends now that I know how to get there! I am excited for this!

Something that I have to simultaneously contemplate but not overthink, for fear that I will not come walking again, is that many people stare as I walk. I stick out. I’ve already said I am one of only a few white women in the area. So, people watch me and talk about me.

Nothing feels mean or targeted. I seem to be the topic of a few conversations as I walk by. There is some laughter when some people see me, but I try not to dwell on this. People turn on their motorbikes to watch me. Some people say hello and good morning. Some wave. Some say nothing. But I feel okay. I feel relatively safe. I’m cautious but hopeful.

The people watch me and I am watching them. I am looking around, studying and trying to learn. Bit by bit I am trying to absorb some of this culture. I will never fully fit in and in the 6 months I am supposed to be here I don’t need to, but I do want to embrace some of the culture and see more of it. I want to get to know these people and the environment and country I am here trying to serve. So, I am going to walk around and watch and learn, and hopefully interact more with the people and the village.

On the way back to the compound I realized just why soccer practice starts at 6am. It wasn’t yet 8:30 in the morning but the sun is hot and it is warm. The temperature went from 70* at 6am to 84* by 8:30am. You have to start early. It’s too hot to play later in the day, or until at least late in the afternoon. At 5pm on Saturday it is supposedly 98*. I think that might be off a little but I do not doubt that it was 98* here early during the day.

There is another reason people stop exercising and playing games later in the morning. The dust is a lot. It gets kicked up as people start to drive and move around through the village. I am coated with dust when I return to my apartment. I don’t think my toes will ever not be stained orange from the dust. I have scrubbed and soaked. The dust is winning so far.