For the first time since April 2013, I had a reason to go to South Sudan for a visit. In 2014, I was thinking what would make me feel I had completed the work I had come to do with the Shilluk people in South Sudan. I had heard about a workshop called Rapid Word Collection (RWC) that resulted in a dictionary. That sounded like the very thing I wanted to do and had time to do. So, I began planning and talking with the RWC people, mainly Kevin W. I also planned for the cooler time of year, the rainy season.
 
As August 2015 drew near, it was time to book my flight to Juba and also to get my entry visa. Kevin and I both requested the necessary letter from our organization in South Sudan. Along with it came a page of instructions.
 
After obtaining the required letter, I had to obtain the visa application form. I went to the South Sudan embassy website for Nairobi and found the download for visa application. It was one page long, and I printed it out. However, when I began to complete it, I discovered it was a visa application to enter Kenya, not South Sudan. Hmmm. I hunted on the web again and found another application – four pages long. It asked the name of the person sponsoring me in South Sudan AND when his birthday is. I had no idea. I spent some time completing all the information that I reasonably could.
 
I also had to have my passport and health card, particularly for the yellow fever injection. (Mine is good until 2020). They also wanted a copy of both of these documents. I had the copy of my passport, but unfortunately, forgot to get a copy of the yellow fever page.
 
Next, I had to go to Kenya Commercial Bank and pay $100 into the Government of South Sudan’s account. The bank would then give me the receipt, and I was to take that to the embassy with my application.
 
All of the documents needed to be submitted on Monday morning between 8:30 and 10:30 am. (That is not a good time to try to get around in Nairobi, but you do what you have to do.) In that way, I would be able to collect the passport and visa on Thursday afternoon, in time to travel to Juba on Monday morning.
 
As I was not in town during the week until the week I needed to submit my application, I had hoped to get to the bank on the weekend. However, that was the weekend when President Obama visited Kenya, and traveling anywhere in the city became a nightmare. By the time I got into Nairobi, the banks had closed, so there was no way to take care of the transfer of funds until early Monday morning.
 
Bright and early Monday morning, I left the house by 7:30 am in hopes of being at the bank when the doors opened. Traffic was light in the direction I was traveling, and so I arrived about 7:50. The bank doesn’t open until 8:30, so I decided to find some coffee and food. The shop I chose didn’t have any decaffeinated coffee, and I’m not used to that strong stuff anymore. However, I decided to risk it and got a coffee and a muffin. By the time the bank opened, I was very jittery and pretty high on caffeine.  I was indeed the first customer in the queue, so got the transfer done fairly quickly.
 
Having finally made my escape from the bank, I headed to the South Sudan embassy. By the time I arrived, there were no parking spaces available, but the guard, having determined I would be there for only a short time, allowed me to park behind several other cars. I left him some money to pay for my parking and also my phone number in case someone wanted to move. There was another expatriate their, who turned out to be John. He was also applying for a visa, so we went into the nice new building together and up to the sixth floor on an elevator/lift that was in good working order.
 
As we stepped off the elevator, two men were seated at a desk. I explained that I wanted to apply for a visa. One said, “Have you paid?”
 
“Yes,” I replied. Then he said, “Have you filled out an application?”
 
“Yes,” I replied, but he gave me a new one anyway. It was only one page, so I took it. Then he said, “You can come back at 10:00.”
 
“10:00???” I asked.
 
“Yes,” he replied. “Applications can be left from 10:00 – 11:00.” It was 9:15. What do you do for 45 minutes? I couldn’t stay parked where I was. There wasn’t really another place to go easily. I started toward home, but decided that the Catholic church was closer. I have gone there for my retreat days in the past, and so I knew they also had a restroom near the chapel. I drove to the church parking, got out and walked through the gate to the church, telling the guard I wanted to use the chapel. That was fine, so I managed to be relieved in several ways – still rather jittery from my morning coffee.
 
At 10:30, I was back at the embassy. This time I actually had a parking place. Again, I left the guard the money for parking and headed up to the sixth floor with John, who had also returned. We were told to go in, and found our way to the place where you put in your applications. Unfortunately, that is the point at which I remembered I had not photocopied my health card. After some negotiations, they let me copy it there, and I was able to give them my papers. WHEW!
 
They said I could collect the passport on Wednesday between 2:00 and 3:00. That was all very well, but I was supposed to be on a Skype call at that time. However, one of my colleagues was able to collect it for me. Finally, by Wednesday 5:00 I had passport in hand, ticket in hand and was nearly packed to go on Monday.
 

Last week, I went to a PhD viva, where the candidate for a PhD defends his thesis or dissertation (depending on where you come from). I have known Ramadan for many years, and so decided to attend this special event. The topic of his research was how to translate the words “justice” and “righteousness” into his mother tongue. During his presentation and defense, he never told us how he thought these words should be translated, so I can’t tell you. I guess I could read the dissertation.

Near the end of the defense, one of the examiners who had lived in Sudan, asked the question how he saw these concepts, as understood by the Dinka and Nuer, relating to the current conflict in South Sudan. My ears suddenly pricked up at that question, because I wanted to know the answer too!

Ramadan explained that the Dinka have a strong cultural heritage, and each person is taught what is “right” according to the tradition of the clan to which one belongs. Various clans have different names for “God”, and traditions that go along with that name. There is no overall belief system that is seen as central to the Dinka, or in fact, to the Nuer. As these are the two largest language groups in South Sudan, and they are the two fighting for power in the current conflict, this is significant.

While the Shilluk have a king and a system of paramount chiefs, chiefs and sub-chiefs, the Dinka and Nuer do not. Each person or at least each clan does what they think is right according to their traditions.

The external examiner broke in at this point and said, “That must make converting people to Christianity very difficult!”

“That is correct,” replied Ramandan. He then went on to explain that missionaries had worked in his home area for 50 years, and at the end of that time had only made four converts. One of these was Ramadan’s father.

Ramadan continued to explain that during the time of the British, the Dinka chiefs were given local authority to settle disputes in their own areas. Therefore, it was not until relatively recently that the Dinka have had to conform to a law larger than their clan traditions. If they broke a law in South Sudan, they could be put into jail because they had broken the “law of the land”, even if it would not have been seen that way by a traditional court. Having a law larger than the Dinka tradition was quite a new concept, and not one everyone has come to terms with it yet.

Ramadan went on to explain that from the Dinka perspective, the government leaders of South Sudan were doing what they thought was “right”. The Nuer, former Vice-President Riak Machar and his fellow leaders, had tried to seize power from the Dinka, and in the Dinka view, that was “not right”. Therefore, since the Nuer started the fight, the Dinka had every right to pursue “justice” and that included killing the Nuer.

He continued that from the Nuer point of view, the Dinka had forced them out of power and that was “not right”. Therefore, they were in the “right” to start the fight and kill the Dinka and anyone who was seen to be on their side. That unfortunately included a lot of Shilluks.

It is not hard to see how this would lead to a cycle of violence and destruction that very rapidly threatened the very existence of the country. If there is not some way to establish “justice” and “righteousness” for both sides, and to bring reconciliation and forgiveness between them, then this disaster would not end until both groups are completely destroyed.

Today, 10 May 2014, I read that President Salva Kiir (Dinka) and former Vice-President Riak Machar (Nuer) have signed a peace agreement. 
“South Sudan's President Salva Kiir and rebel leader Riek Machar agreed a pact on Friday, after a five-month conflict that has displaced 1.5 million people.
Their truce, the second attempt of its kind, comes into force on Saturday.
The previous deal, struck in January, collapsed within days, with both sides accusing each other of restarting the fighting.” (http://www.bbc.com/news/world-africa-27354568)

Time will tell about peace in South Sudan. Ramadan, however, passed his viva and is now Dr. Ramadan!

It all began on the Saturday before Easter, 2014. Margaret, my flatmate, had departed for Burundi at 5:30 am. Thankfully, she didn’t wake me up as she left. I had a nice peaceful day and in the afternoon, went for a walk. The bougainvillea is in bloom, so I decided to break off some blossoms for a bouquet for the table on Easter. I had some lavendar and deep red, but it needed a touch of something else. As I walked toward the steps to my flat, I saw a lovely yellow blossom, and managed to break off a stem to add to the bouquet.

Once I got home, I rinsed the bougainvillia off, as all of it was covered in dust. I put my nice flowers in a vase, and the yellow flower was placed in the middle. It set off the others quite nicely.

After supper and cleaning up the kitchen, I had a pleasant evening, and went to bed about 10 pm. I was almost asleep when suddenly I heard a crash coming from the kitchen. I froze for a moment, and then switched on the light. I hurried into the kitchen and found my wooden spoons and spatulas had crashed to the floor beside the refrigerator. I picked them up, wondering why they had decided to fall like that. I determined to wash them all the next day, and returned to bed.

Easter Sunday morning, I hastened through breakfast and went to church. However, in the afternoon, I started to prepare my lunch. I went to the sink to wash my hands, and the soap in the soap dish had disappeared. I certainly had used it when I did the flowers the day before, but now, it was nowhere to be seen.

My mind quickly went back to the events of previous rats that have come into our flat, and the teeth marks previously left on that bar of soap had only recently disappeared. I began to investigate around the kitchen. The last time, the rat had carried it from the sink across the counter, but had dropped it between the counter and the cooker. I looked in that gap, but no soap. Perhaps this one had made it across the cooker to the other side. I checked that gap. No soap. Maybe it had made it across the next counter and had knocked over the wooden spoons as it headed behind the refrigerator. Well, if it had, the soap was not found in that gap either.

We have screens on our windows, and nothing had been breached. The hole in the wall where the sink drain exits to the outside remained sealed. Where had it come in? And where was it now?

As I studied the room trying to figure out how the thing had gotten in and out with a bar of soap, my gaze fell upon the flower arrangement. My yellow flower was missing. Usually a bloom will wither and then drop off. But there was NO FLOWER. Had the rat taken that as well?

In the recent past, we have had kitchen rat, hall rat, and window rat. But this one must be Houdini rat!
On Sunday night, we put out a round blue cake of poison. It looked rather like a small blue metal scrubby, about an inch in diameter. I made sure all the cupboard doors that would close were closed. No sense making this easy for Houdini. I made sure to close my bedroom door, as I didn’t want any visitors to my bed or my clothes.

Monday morning was a holiday, so I slept in and when I got up, went to investigate. The poison was still there, but had been nibbled. Additionally, the four-legged whatever had urinated across the countertops all the way from the refrigerator to the outside window. It had not touched the banana or the tomato that were sitting out. My previous rats had been very partial to bananas. Needless to say, I cleaned up the leavings, hoping it meant the thing was dying. But where was it? I checked the cupboards. Nothing. I washed down the countertops with bleach water.

Monday night, I again slept with my door firmly shut. I hoped I would get up and find everything as I had left it, which would mean the intruder had left or died. I turned on the light in the kitchen and went to check the cake of poison. It was gone. I did a double take, hardly believing my eyes. I looked on the floor, but no sign of it. The intruder had taken the “whole enchilada”. The only good thing about that, was that sure now it was dead.

Tuesday night, as I was sitting in the living room, I heard noises coming from the kitchen. Maybe this thing wasn’t dead after all. We had not replaced the poison, but I decided maybe I had better keep trying, just to be sure.

Wednesday afternoon as I came back from work, I was looking at my keys and thinking of something else when I nearly ran into the gate. Normally it is against the wall in the daytime, but it had been moved so I nearly ran into it. I caught sight of it just in time to avoid a collision. Then I noticed a paper bag had been left in the grillwork. It contained another tablet of poison, so I carried it in, and in the evening, put the new tablet out for the critter.

Once I went to bed and closed my door, if I had to come out of my room again, I had taken to calling out “Ok, Rat, I’m coming out!” So, on Thursday morning, I worked up my courage and looked to see what had happened. The poison had been nibbled again, and some of the blue specks were scattered around the counter. What did it take to kill this thing/these things?

By this time, the continuing saga on Facebook had quite a following. I was getting lots of suggestions. A Sudanese friend said that there is a story in their family that says rats can hear what you say, so you must not speak loudly when you plan your strategy to catch the rat. She suggested it might also be able to see what is written on Facebook! She suggested using tomato as bait and putting Panadol in the tomato. Panadol is supposed to be poisonous to rats. I fear I may have occasion to test this theory!

Nancy, our house help, comes on Thursdays. So, I met her and explained about the intruder. I asked her to look in the cupboards and particularly behind the refrigerator to see if there was any evidence of a critter. At midday, as I was returning for my lunch, Nancy informed me she had checked everywhere, and there was NO sign of a rat. No calling cards, no soap, no flower, no smell.

Since Thursday night, I have not heard anything and the poison has not been touched. But the mystery remains. How did Houdini get in? How did Houdini get out? Where is the soap? Where is the body?