Loa Derelict Mission
off main road to south,
20 miles north of Uganda border,
Middle of Nowhere,
c/o Nobody.
Saturday 1.45 pm
My Darling,
I hope this letter gets to you quickly enough to arrive before I do. I left for Loa from Juba yesterday within minutes of dashing off that quick covering letter to my long report. I hardly had time to bolt a meal down before we were bumping down to the ferry in the Landrover...
I've just finished the lunch washing up, standing on the stoep of the totally derelict mission house (no doors, no windows,, walls showing 11 years of total neglect, except occasional billetting by Northern soldiers , or Anyanya) swishing plate around in the water from the Nile five miles away. The water comes from a large trailer which is also on the stoep.
In front of me is the enourmous church, also derelict. Big cross at the entrance with left bar shot away by northern bullets. Coloured wooden purple heart Jesus with face torn away standing in the nave. on the other side a headless Madonna on a side altar, one foot shattered, the other with five fat Italianate pinkies treading on the snake of evil. On the high alter stands an angel, its wings shorn off, one of them lying on the altar. Intricate paintings on every wall. Multi-coloured windows Bats in the vestry and no doubt in the belfry.
The Verona Fathers, like missionaries all over the south, were told to fuck off in 1959 or 1960. Then desultory occupation by a few African fathers. Then nothing, until a few months ago.
I crossed the Juba ferry with this Norwegian volunteer about lunch time yesterday. Took four hours to do the 102 miles. For the first 90 miles not a single solitary family hut or patch of cultivated land, just the bullet scarred road signs. Me stopping the driver to light up everytime the bush clearing fire was near the road, because there were no matches to be baught in Juba, except maybe at the hotel and we hadn't had time to go there.
We start climbing and a beautiful mountain range appears. We turn onto a road patched with old bricks from the mission, pull into this ghastly ruin to find one excited wife. (She was expecting her husband, who was with us, two days before. He'd gone to get corrigated iron and cement from the Juba relief stores - both had been snaffled by some other department so he filled up with food and blankets) dreary looking, but fairly pleasant Norwegian girls, teachers with nobody to teach yet.
All four had been told by their government to leave Uganda so they came up here. Supper consists of two slices of tinned meatloaf, a small French style loaf, jam and tea. Breakfast the next morning is American yellow cornmeal with dudus sifted out (no milk) bread, marmalade and tea. Lunch is 2 sardines, bread and margarine, marmalade and tea. Protestant types, all more or less from the Norwegian backwoods - not a frill in their lifestyle. Oye.
Stories round the paraffin stove of the lion they heard roaring round the place the other night, of the Hyena someone trapped nearby the other day, of workers treated for scorpion bites. More Oye. Thank God I remembered to buy a torch while I was hunting for matches. To my lone doorless windowless room (a barricade of tables, to lay me down on two grass mats and blankets thinking long of you. A bit of pain and longing. But peacefully to sleep about 9.30 -- until hip one starts getting stiff. On to back and then onto hip two. And so on at probably 20 minute intervals throughout the night. But somehow adequate sleep.
Up at six for a shower with an enamel bowl, a shit in the klienhuise - and no shave. But I brushed my teeth last night and this morning, love.
Off to interview two former Anyanaya members of the building team as arranged by building supervisor Moigu. He speaks good English. Was educated right here in the thirties, at this select mission boarding school. These places, all in the old public boarding school tradition, were scattered throughout the rural south - and these are being rebuilt as schools or nucleus vilages under the SCC programme.
One of the Anyanaya is an ex-corporal, the other is an ex-private. One is a carpenter, the other a painter. They've spent years living in the bush, their families are still living in their old bush retreats. They'll bring them to settle here when the building is finished. They're both pleased their country is now 'free'. They feel they've achieved their aim in fighting so long. They'd like to have been reabsorbed into the regular army, but they are happy to be rebuilding the nation.
Moigu is the other kettle of fish. Hardworking, responsible, pleasant. Was a postmaster, was in agriculture, now owns two shope, one in Juba, one at Nimule and a wife and a family in each time. 'A Catholic, but a polygamist' as he says, smiling. Guess who'll be reaping the fruits? The bishop held his first mass in about a decade in the church last Sunday. He's got a team of workers clearing up around there. Very useful.
I trekked all around the place with Eivind and Moigu. There's about 50 buildings, a boys school, dormitories and a girls' school etc. Most need re-roofing and plastering. About 500 kids will be coming around April to occupy it. Then there is a nucleus village to be built, one of the 10 or so the SCC teams are doing. I took pix and worked on my recorder as much as a could. Put in a 6.30 to 1.30 solid working day.
So that's been the scene, love - and I'll leave it happily enough tomorrow morning. The head chief has promised to ask the police at the border town of Nimule to stop any lorry or LR with a spare seat so I can heave my revelation aboard and get back to Juba. Then I'll try to strike out westwards to Yei, Lasso etc. to see similar things. I'll interview the nobs in Juba either in between or when I get back from the second trip.
I hope Rudiger sent, or delivered, my letter and report. He left for Kampala today, not Nairobi, and I told him to do whichever would seem the quicker. I wonder what you are doing and how you are feeling, my Baby? You should have had my second bouquet this coming Monday. I hope it made you feel a happy love, for me. Did the boys get off OK? Did Hank come? Maybe there'll be a letter for me when I get back to the city of Juba. I'll check out the poste restante and the hotel.
Typing in Juba has been very awkward because the room had only a low-level crate and a Finn and Inge type chair. Here I have a proper bench and a schooldesk! When I et back I'll comandeer a table so I can get my notes into stories. Shit I hope my pix come out!
Did you get your money yet from the school, the Nation and the Post, I wonder. What have you been doing? God I miss you so much my love. Do you long for me, or do you long more for the if only...? Is Phil's room ready? Did you paint the table again? Did you finish VOW [the ANC Women's publication called the Voice of Women] Was it a feeling of something well done? Did you do the Afrique-Asie piece?
I guess I'll have something for such markets, but it won't be very political. I a so looking forward to coming home, love. I'm really going to try and get this jazz off my plate before coming so we can have a relaxed time. Have you heard from Phil and is all in order about his coming?
Last thing baby, don't worry about the possiility of Howitt not pitching up. It's really most unlikely that he'll fail to come. I shouldn't even have mentioned it. He's picking up his own site manager, who fully intends to be home in Limuru for Christmas. But just in case, I can assure you I am spending so little cash that I'll be able to afford plane tickets easily. The SCC accomodation is £1 a day, all found, including very efficient laundry. And here, it's free - as it bloody well ought to be!
Be good, my love, and be happy. I love you so. I am yours and only yours. Please take me and have me for what I am. I could never go elsewhere or belong elsewhere or belong anywhere else, the thought is unreal and repulsive to me. Think of me with happiness, as I do of you. I love you.
Your To
off main road to south,
20 miles north of Uganda border,
Middle of Nowhere,
c/o Nobody.
Saturday 1.45 pm
Towards the town of Yei
My Darling,
I hope this letter gets to you quickly enough to arrive before I do. I left for Loa from Juba yesterday within minutes of dashing off that quick covering letter to my long report. I hardly had time to bolt a meal down before we were bumping down to the ferry in the Landrover...
I've just finished the lunch washing up, standing on the stoep of the totally derelict mission house (no doors, no windows,, walls showing 11 years of total neglect, except occasional billetting by Northern soldiers , or Anyanya) swishing plate around in the water from the Nile five miles away. The water comes from a large trailer which is also on the stoep.
In front of me is the enourmous church, also derelict. Big cross at the entrance with left bar shot away by northern bullets. Coloured wooden purple heart Jesus with face torn away standing in the nave. on the other side a headless Madonna on a side altar, one foot shattered, the other with five fat Italianate pinkies treading on the snake of evil. On the high alter stands an angel, its wings shorn off, one of them lying on the altar. Intricate paintings on every wall. Multi-coloured windows Bats in the vestry and no doubt in the belfry.
The Verona Fathers, like missionaries all over the south, were told to fuck off in 1959 or 1960. Then desultory occupation by a few African fathers. Then nothing, until a few months ago.
I crossed the Juba ferry with this Norwegian volunteer about lunch time yesterday. Took four hours to do the 102 miles. For the first 90 miles not a single solitary family hut or patch of cultivated land, just the bullet scarred road signs. Me stopping the driver to light up everytime the bush clearing fire was near the road, because there were no matches to be baught in Juba, except maybe at the hotel and we hadn't had time to go there.
We start climbing and a beautiful mountain range appears. We turn onto a road patched with old bricks from the mission, pull into this ghastly ruin to find one excited wife. (She was expecting her husband, who was with us, two days before. He'd gone to get corrigated iron and cement from the Juba relief stores - both had been snaffled by some other department so he filled up with food and blankets) dreary looking, but fairly pleasant Norwegian girls, teachers with nobody to teach yet.
All four had been told by their government to leave Uganda so they came up here. Supper consists of two slices of tinned meatloaf, a small French style loaf, jam and tea. Breakfast the next morning is American yellow cornmeal with dudus sifted out (no milk) bread, marmalade and tea. Lunch is 2 sardines, bread and margarine, marmalade and tea. Protestant types, all more or less from the Norwegian backwoods - not a frill in their lifestyle. Oye.
Stories round the paraffin stove of the lion they heard roaring round the place the other night, of the Hyena someone trapped nearby the other day, of workers treated for scorpion bites. More Oye. Thank God I remembered to buy a torch while I was hunting for matches. To my lone doorless windowless room (a barricade of tables, to lay me down on two grass mats and blankets thinking long of you. A bit of pain and longing. But peacefully to sleep about 9.30 -- until hip one starts getting stiff. On to back and then onto hip two. And so on at probably 20 minute intervals throughout the night. But somehow adequate sleep.
Up at six for a shower with an enamel bowl, a shit in the klienhuise - and no shave. But I brushed my teeth last night and this morning, love.
Off to interview two former Anyanaya members of the building team as arranged by building supervisor Moigu. He speaks good English. Was educated right here in the thirties, at this select mission boarding school. These places, all in the old public boarding school tradition, were scattered throughout the rural south - and these are being rebuilt as schools or nucleus vilages under the SCC programme.
One of the Anyanaya is an ex-corporal, the other is an ex-private. One is a carpenter, the other a painter. They've spent years living in the bush, their families are still living in their old bush retreats. They'll bring them to settle here when the building is finished. They're both pleased their country is now 'free'. They feel they've achieved their aim in fighting so long. They'd like to have been reabsorbed into the regular army, but they are happy to be rebuilding the nation.
Moigu is the other kettle of fish. Hardworking, responsible, pleasant. Was a postmaster, was in agriculture, now owns two shope, one in Juba, one at Nimule and a wife and a family in each time. 'A Catholic, but a polygamist' as he says, smiling. Guess who'll be reaping the fruits? The bishop held his first mass in about a decade in the church last Sunday. He's got a team of workers clearing up around there. Very useful.
I trekked all around the place with Eivind and Moigu. There's about 50 buildings, a boys school, dormitories and a girls' school etc. Most need re-roofing and plastering. About 500 kids will be coming around April to occupy it. Then there is a nucleus village to be built, one of the 10 or so the SCC teams are doing. I took pix and worked on my recorder as much as a could. Put in a 6.30 to 1.30 solid working day.
So that's been the scene, love - and I'll leave it happily enough tomorrow morning. The head chief has promised to ask the police at the border town of Nimule to stop any lorry or LR with a spare seat so I can heave my revelation aboard and get back to Juba. Then I'll try to strike out westwards to Yei, Lasso etc. to see similar things. I'll interview the nobs in Juba either in between or when I get back from the second trip.
I hope Rudiger sent, or delivered, my letter and report. He left for Kampala today, not Nairobi, and I told him to do whichever would seem the quicker. I wonder what you are doing and how you are feeling, my Baby? You should have had my second bouquet this coming Monday. I hope it made you feel a happy love, for me. Did the boys get off OK? Did Hank come? Maybe there'll be a letter for me when I get back to the city of Juba. I'll check out the poste restante and the hotel.
Typing in Juba has been very awkward because the room had only a low-level crate and a Finn and Inge type chair. Here I have a proper bench and a schooldesk! When I et back I'll comandeer a table so I can get my notes into stories. Shit I hope my pix come out!
Did you get your money yet from the school, the Nation and the Post, I wonder. What have you been doing? God I miss you so much my love. Do you long for me, or do you long more for the if only...? Is Phil's room ready? Did you paint the table again? Did you finish VOW [the ANC Women's publication called the Voice of Women] Was it a feeling of something well done? Did you do the Afrique-Asie piece?
I guess I'll have something for such markets, but it won't be very political. I a so looking forward to coming home, love. I'm really going to try and get this jazz off my plate before coming so we can have a relaxed time. Have you heard from Phil and is all in order about his coming?
Last thing baby, don't worry about the possiility of Howitt not pitching up. It's really most unlikely that he'll fail to come. I shouldn't even have mentioned it. He's picking up his own site manager, who fully intends to be home in Limuru for Christmas. But just in case, I can assure you I am spending so little cash that I'll be able to afford plane tickets easily. The SCC accomodation is £1 a day, all found, including very efficient laundry. And here, it's free - as it bloody well ought to be!
Be good, my love, and be happy. I love you so. I am yours and only yours. Please take me and have me for what I am. I could never go elsewhere or belong elsewhere or belong anywhere else, the thought is unreal and repulsive to me. Think of me with happiness, as I do of you. I love you.
Your To
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