Out of Juba to a bled called Agok near Darfur. I had to deliver 26 of those beds. Another plane was to deliver the mattresses.
The Nile looks like a difficult river to navigate, even impossible at some spots I’d say. But after seeing all these barges I might have to revise my opinion.
I haven’t seen many farm fields in South Sudan so far. Here are some alongside the Nile outside Juba.
After 2 hours over a monotonous flat and vast green plain, here is Agok, still a bit flooded.
These huts were made of plastic tarpaulins, reeds and various salvaged materials. The floods seem receding. Finally I could perform a low pass, Tanzanian style, to chase off animals and kids.
Those huts have lovely multilayered roofs.
I got a few surprises: these women started to sing and dance in my honor for bringing beds(?). Not food not medicine but beds…
And the filmmaker here interviewed me, asking me how I felt to help out a whole village, why did I do this, where did I come from, she thanked me at every sentence and I felt like Madonna landing in Malawi.
Then an old man was brought on the scene, to be flown to Juba. Things went a bit sour because I wouldn’t fly him for free. 15 people started to yell and get excited around me like in an oriental bazaar. The usual excuses and plights came out: he is poor, has no friends, no family, he is sick, his goats have died etc. One would wonder how did he survive so long out there…
I smiled and said this circus reminded me of Tanzania. What had I said! The journalist felt insulted funny enough and claimed loudly this was not Tanzania. I apologized and said she was right, that Tanzanians were at least quiet and polite in the same situation, and I started to board the plane. Suddenly little banknotes came out of at least 10 pockets. For a guy who was alone and poor 5 minutes before, he suddenly made many friends…and I was then called Belgica Man…no more Dear Ben, God Bless you etc!
Where did she pick Belgica? I had said Belgium.
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