The Mercy Corps Blog

Blog Post Posted February 11, 2008, 10:56 am by Dan Sadowsky

Education Conundrum

Photo: Miguel Samper for Mercy Corps

Miguel and I spent a good deal of time the last few days at three Kurmuk schools that scrape by with the support of local and international development agencies. All are grossly under-resourced, with environments that are hardly conducive to learning.

Students must crowd onto UNICEF-provided desks, use plastic chairs or sit on the floor. One school is literally crumbling, none has anything close to a library or a science lab, and there's hardly a textbook in sight. They only go up to grade eight, and there's nothing in the district for students who want to advance beyond that.

Many Sudanese are now returning to Kurmuk from refugee camps in Ethiopia, where their kids attended classes taught in English. Many would like their children to continue learning in English, but until now, government support has been limited to schools that teach in Arabic and follow the official curriculum. Sudan's interim constitution, written after the 2005 peace accord, prohibits "discrimination against the use of either Arabic or English at any level of government or stage of education." Disagreement remains, however, over what is to be taught in schools and how.

"Education presents a huge potential for conflict," says Marco Pfister, who manages Mercy Corps' program to strengthen civil-society organizations in Kurmuk County. "All the problems that led to civil war are here. Whose history do you teach? How do you deal with religion? What is the language of instruction? We're not taking sides on these issues; we're trying to facilitate a community dialogue around them."

So, for two days last week, Mercy Corps hosted a discussion among teachers, parents and community-group leaders. The objective: to identify the challenges the community faces when it comes to education, and to try to reach some consensus on how to proceed.

Hellene Samia Rajab, one of six teachers on the payroll (there are also four volunteers) of the 560-student Kurmuk Model School, organized the forum. In addition to being a teacher, she also manages the finances of a local nonprofit that teaches sewing and adult literacy classes.

"Mercy Corps is really helping us," she said. "In December we heard a presentation by the UN on Human Rights Day that focused a lot on education. Someone suggested we hold a separate dialogue on education. We submitted a proposal to Mercy Corps to help us."

That proposal led to last week's dialogue, which was held in Mercy Corps' Civil Society Resource Center, a popular compound in the middle of town that features meeting space and a computer lab. We also provided the group with materials, lunch and facilitation help. When Miguel and I stopped by near the end of the first day, dozens of flip-chart sheets listing objectives, problems and solutions showed proof of progress. "We are getting closer," Hellene said later. "But we still have several steps to go."

One of those steps is a dialogue that includes teachers from Kurmuk's Arabic-language school, who weren't able to attend this last one because of a conflicting event. Then there will be a workshop for parents. And finally, if a consensus can be reached, the group plans to approach state education officials — who have temporarily moved their offices to Kurmuk this month and next — to find common ground.

One student who attended last week's forum, 16-year-old Omeima, told me she hopes the government-community dialogue results in more support for her school, Comboni. When empty, the forlorn brick building looks like an Indiana Jones movie set — complete with a crumbling staircase, weeds sprouting from the roof gutter and the strong scent of abandonment.

Omeima's dream is to attend a well-built school with sufficient teachers, textbooks and furnishings. To her, it's a vision worth pursuing. "I participated in last week's dialogue because I want to encourage other girls to participate. And also because if there is a dialogue with government, I want to be there."

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Blog Post Posted February 9, 2008, 3:47 am by Dan Sadowsky

Kurmuk's Water Market

Mamun Idris, a member of Kurmuk's water committee, manages projects that maintain and improve residents' access to water. Photo: Miguel Samper for Mercy Corps

Gold can be found in the hills around Kurmuk, but when dry season hits this part of eastern Sudan, an even more precious commodity is water.

During the nine-month rainy season, hand-dug channels funnel water into a reservoir on the outskirts of town. From there it is piped year-round to a set of eight taps and a garage-sized water tower, both of which are just off the town's market square.

It falls to Kurmuk's water committee, founded in 2005, to maintain the generator used to pump the water the kilometer or so from the reservoir and the two intown water points, and to collect usage fees at each. Mercy Corps supports the committee with trainings on management, budgeting and the like, and with small grants that have helped repair the generator and unclog the reservoir's intake troughs.

Both sites were busy when we stopped by late this afternoon. The metal water tower is quite a scene. Riveted in a nine-by-nine grid on each side, the container looks like a giant Rubik's Cube perched 20 feet off the ground. Below, in the same way cars line up at a gas station, donkey carts await their turn to fill up. Just like at a full-service pump, a water attendant inserts the nozzle in the tank, fills it up, then quickly moves the still-running hose to the next customer's barrel. (OK, maybe that last part isn't quite the same.)

It costs five birr for a water vendor to fill the 200-liter barrel that he hauls around on his donkey cart. (Business in Kurmuk, which sits on Sudan's border with Ethiopia, is done in both Sudanese pounds and Ethiopian birr, but prices are generally quoted in birr. And nine birr equal about one U.S. dollar these days.) Hanging from each cart are two plastic jerry cans used to portion out water; the going rate is about two birr per can. Each barrel fills 10 jerry cans, and it's possible for a vendor to fill and empty his barrel six times during the course of a day.

Do the math and the bottom line is this: an enterprising water seller can pocket more than 100 birr in a day — not bad by Kurmuk standards. I haven't gone as far as to see if the profession pencils out once you figure in the initial investment, which is sizeable. A donkey, I was told, can cost 3,000-4,000 birr, and the cart runs another 5,000.

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Blog Post Posted February 7, 2008, 9:39 pm by Dan Sadowsky

Lit By Laptops

Photo: Miguel Samper for Mercy Corps

It's 9:05 p.m. in Wunrock, southern Sudan, and faces are aglow at the Mercy Corps compound. The generator hums from 8 until 10 p.m., and along with our own staff in this picture sit employees of nearby NGOs — who don't have Internet access at their compounds and are invited to use our wireless network.

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Blog Post Posted February 6, 2008, 10:27 pm by Dan Sadowsky

The Sudan of Their Dreams

Photo: Miguel Samper for Mercy Corps

On today's flight from Agok to Wau I sat across the aisle from Achel, a tall and spirited Dinka woman who trains women entrepreneurs in business skills for Mercy Corps. From Wau she'd fly to Khartoum to surprise three of her sisters, each of whom was traveling from homes outside Sudan to visit their father.

As we stepped off the 11-seat UN aircraft and walked toward the open-air terminal, she told me she'd just taken her first steps in Wau since she fled the town in 1998.

I heard bits and pieces of Achel's story the last few days, during which she served as our interpreter at our project sites in Twic County, southern Sudan. Growing up with limited opportunities in Khartoum. Coming back to southern Sudan when her father, a government employee, was transferred in 1985. Hiding under Wunrock's enormous baobab tree at the first sound of Antonov bombers.

And now on the red-dirt tarmac, I was reminded of her cover-of-darkness flight from Wau. I pointed out that her last trip between Wau and Agok had been on foot, and this one was in a Cessna. She laughed. "That time it took us one month." Today's ride took only 48 minutes.

Our Sudanese staff members share the same traits of my Mercy Corps colleagues anywhere in the world: friendly, hardworking, dedicated to helping improve their country. But here, each has his or her particular tale of hardship and turmoil.

There's Michael, an upbeat 24-year-old program manager who spent six years of his childhood as a soldier. Or John, an IT specialist schooled at a refugee camp in Kenya. Or Nyanchol, who was uprooted from her home during a time when peers in safer countries were finishing high school and going on to university.

I doubt there's a single member of our national staff whose life was not dramatically altered by Sudan's civil war. But each one persevered. Today Achel manages a program that in the last two years has supported 15 women-owned enterprises, from restaurants to tea stalls to lodges. She doesn't think much of the work habits of men here, so for the future, she says soberly, "We are depending on the women."

For our Sudanese staff, war is part of all of their pasts. But what's encouraging is that now all of them — instead of hiding, fearing, waiting, hurting, suffering — are building the Sudan of their dreams.

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Blog Post Posted February 5, 2008, 11:52 am by Dan Sadowsky

Meeting Manute Bol

Photo: Miguel Samper for Mercy Corps

Not far from a youth center Mercy Corps built in the town of Turalei is the ancestral home of the second-tallest man to ever play in the National Basketball Association (NBA).

Manute Bol is best known for using his 7-foot-7 frame to block more than 2,000 shots during a 10-year professional career. But he's also a devoted activist for southern Sudan. To raise money and awareness for his homeland, he's marched in a three-week "Sudan Freedom Walk" from New York to Washington and boxed in a Fox-televised celebrity match.

Now 45, Bol lives most of the year in Kansas, but we heard he'd returned to Turalei (for the funeral of his half-brother, he told us) and he graciously received us when we dropped by unannounced late this afternoon.

Sitting under a tree in a specially sized lawn chair, he greeted us with a "What's up, guys?", told us he was enjoying his brief visit to Turalei ("It was cold in Kansas"), and said he was looking forward to being the guest of former teammate and current Warriors General Manager Chris Mullin at the Celtics-Warriors game in Oakland later this month.

Some excerpts from our discussion:

You did a lot to raise awareness of displaced Sudanese during the war. Just now off the main road we saw busloads of people returning to Turalei.
Yes, they started coming back last week. They don't have a lot — no food, no shelter. But it's good for them that they come back, because Khartoum was very difficult.

Are you still involved in activism around Sudanese issues?
Yes. I talk about Darfur a lot. In January, I went to the Iowa caucuses and did a rally for the Sudan Peace Initiative. If you become president, what can you do for Darfur and southern Sudan? That is the question.

What changes have you seen here since the peace?
There's a big difference here. People are walking free, you're getting your own thing, nobody bothers you. That's the way it used to be.

What is the role of Mercy Corps and other NGOs in strengthening the peace?
I didn't know about you guys until last year. But when I came to town, I saw you guys had built things. You guys can build schools, build wells.... The refugees (who've just arrived) are struggling this year. Next year, they will find their own thing and live better.

Do you think all the talk in the U.S. about Darfur distracts people from the issue of peace in Sudan?
They should be talking about both. Right now, in the U.S., all they want to ask about is "What's going on in Darfur?" They think the CPA (Comprehensive Peace Agreement) was signed, there's peace, everything's okay. They're wrong. You can see it. Southern Sudan is not right yet.

Do you think the peace in Sudan will last?
If the northern Sudanese want to be with us as Sudanese, they have to prove themselves. If they want us to be unified, they need to prove themselves (to the southerners).

How do you see the role of sports in southern Sudan's development?
Nothing's been done. It's hard. USAID and Nike built one basketball court in Juba. You need to build some courts. We will try, too. I'm talking to the NBA about it.

I'm surprised to see there isn't a court here.
This is only the second time I've stayed here for a while. I was here for three-and-a-half months starting last August. I used to stay for only one or two days, because they were bombing the place.

Are you playing basketball these days?
I got in a bad car accident (in April 2004) and lost the use of both my hands (he raises his arms to show his disfigured hands), hurt my knee and broke my back. I was in the hospital for six months. These days it is very hard for me to walk.

Do you still keep in touch with (former NBA player) Charles Barkley?
Yes, but I have not talked to him in a while. Charles changes his phone number every week.

Has he invited you to appear on "Inside the NBA"?
No. I wonder why. I think it's because he knows what I will say.

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Blog Post Posted February 4, 2008, 12:04 pm by Dan Sadowsky

Abyei: The Heart of the Matter

Photo: Miguel Samper for Mercy Corps

"We're in the middle of nowhere and at the middle of it all at the same time."

This is what a colleague said today as we neared the end of a half-hour hike along a sandy footpath, bright red gum acacia trees lining the way, to visit a temporary housing project that Mercy Corps helped the community build for returnees to the Abyei area.

I couldn't have said it any better. Perhaps more than any other place, Abyei — a border region anchored by a dusty, chaotic, unexceptional town of the same name — holds the key to a lasting peace in Sudan. That includes peace in Darfur, and by extension peace in Chad, northern Uganda, the Democratic Republic of Congo … all the conflicts on the Sudanese border.

A critical crossroads for both northerners and southerners, Abyei is such a controversial area that it received its own special protocol in the 2005 Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) that ended Sudan's civil war.

The CPA awarded Abyei residents their own administration, a formula for divvying up its oil revenues and a referendum on whether to remain in the north or become a part of a southern state. When the peace nearly fell apart in October last year, it was largely over a dispute about the implementation of the Abyei protocol.

It's a highly charged environment, one where impartiality is critical to success. Our approach is to put the community in the driver's seat, let them steer their own development (mainly infrastructure and services), and help them to address local challenges that, if lest to fester, could threaten the agreement nationwide.

What we saw today was an example of our efforts to help Abyei with one of its primary development challenges — the ability to handle an influx of returnees. Last year we helped the community construct several housing projects where people coming back to Abyei can stay for a few months while they build their own homes. This particular compound, outside a village called Maker (pronounced mah-CARE), was nearly empty when we dropped by (it was Sunday afternoon, and we were told many were either in Abyei town or in the forest collecting wood and grass for their new homes).

But we did meet one elderly woman who told us about being driven from the area by steal-and-burn marauders more than two decades ago. She was nearly blind and didn't have enough food — she'd had nothing to eat by 3 p.m. — but that seemed almost inconsequential to her. "I am very happy to be in my homeland," she told us.

Before that we talked to a 19-year-old Dinka girl, Achichong, who'd been born and raised in Khartoum to parents who'd fled in the mid-1980s. Achichong said she'd been eager to see the place she'd grown up hearing about, a place she also referred to as home. She was poised but shy, so to stimulate a little bit of conversation, I asked her the name of her son. Maker, she said — same as the village.

"We came back to our homeland," she explained, "and I named him for this."

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Blog Post Posted February 1, 2008, 2:28 pm by Dan Sadowsky

Short Notes from Today

As I interviewed Tereza Deng, who organizes a local women's group, at her home in Juol Jok this morning, Miguel observed the a.m. routine at the family compound. He captured this image of one of her daughters cleaning dishes:

Photo: Miguel Samper for Mercy Corps

Later, Tereza escorted us to her office. It's one of the "tukuls" in the distance, a traditional Sudanese hut made from poles, mud and dried grass. This shot illustrates a typical landscape in Abyei area:

Photo: Miguel Samper for Mercy Corps

I drew a crowd in Ajakuac in the afternoon, talking with a returnee farmer who'd received one of 26 pedal-powered water pumps we distributed earlier in the day. The bricks drying behind us were made by participants in our cash-for-work program, which — according to the village's dean of shopkeepers — has boosted business in the market:

Photo: Miguel Samper for Mercy Corps

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Blog Post Posted January 31, 2008, 12:17 pm by Dan Sadowsky

We're not the U.N., but...

Mercy Corps' multicultural staff in Sudan includes Jameson Gadzirai of Zimbabwe, Andre-Guy Soh of Cameroon and Rodrigo Ordoñez of Spain. Photo: Miguel Samper for Mercy Corps

Today the deputy chief of party for one of our U.S.-funded programs, a Bosnian woman, drove us to the town of Abyei. We rode there with a Spaniard, a Zimbabwean and a Cameroonian. After meeting the head of our office there, who is French, we were led on a tour of several agricultural projects by a program manager from Sierra Leone.

Of the nine Mercy Corps field programs I've visited, Sudan boasts far and away the most diverse expatriate staff. Around the world, roughly 95 percent of our staff hail from the country in which they're working, and nearly every office has a handful of internationals, or "expats," usually experienced agency hands hired to fill country director or finance manager posts.

That's true of our Sudan staff — which is more than 500 members strong — except that the expats here hail from a whopping 24 different countries. They usually serve from one to three years and mentor national staff, who are groomed for key management roles.

"We recruit that way intentionally," Country Director Richard Haselwood, an American from South Carolina, told me. "For starters, Sudan is an extremely complex and difficult environment, and it helps to have managers with prior Mercy Corps experience. I have found it extremely beneficial to recruit stellar nationals who have risen through Mercy Corps' ranks in their own countries. Sudan benefits from their knowledge and they benefit from their first challenging expatriate experience."

"Also," he continued, "in the context of Sudan, where political, religious and ethnic loyalties play heavily into the dynamic here, our work is best carried out by a staff that doesn't bring any biases to the table. With what's at stake here, I think it's appropriate that our staff represents the global community. And given the colonial history in East Africa, and the staff development we do, it's important to have multicultural mentors."

Richard's staff — both expats and nationals — certainly seems to value his approach.

"It's encouraging to see Mercy Corps recruiting from many places," says Sam Sosten, the human resources/finance officer in the Agok office who's from another region in Sudan. "And it makes a difference in our work because we benefit from the diversity of experiences that our coworkers bring with them."

"The minute I met the team, I knew working alongside each of them would be very enriching," adds Communication Manager Rodrigo Ordoñez, who's from northern Spain and joined the team last August. "Everyone's story is different, and sharing those previous experiences makes me learn something new every day. In fact, Sudanese are very open to foreigners, and curious of new cultures, so it fits well in that context, too."

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Blog Post Posted January 30, 2008, 11:59 am by Dan Sadowsky

Flying the Sudanese Skies

Photo: Miguel Samper for Mercy Corps

Today we took three flights to reach our field office in Agok. At the Wau airport we ran into Bente, Mercy Corps' capacity-building specialist. She was on her way from Malual Kon to Wunrock. Only 100 kilometers separate the two towns, but there's no road between them. So the trip requires three flights and a two-day layover in Rumbek because of the limited schedule. "Welcome to Sudan," she said with a laugh.

Air travel is the necessary mode of transportation for aid workers in Sudan, especially in the south. Most flights are operated by the UN World Food Program's Humanitarian Air Service, whose 30-unit fleet ranges from helicopters to 39-seat jets to prop planes with unpressurized cabins.

The best part of riding in small aircraft is that the cockpit door usually stays open through the flight. This affords a view of the instrument panel and out the front window, plus you can watch the pilots' every move. You can also overhear what the pilots say during their preflight routine, which isn't all business. Our last flight of the day featured this exchange:

"You take the first leg, and I'll take the way back?"
"Alright."
"Book."
"What?"
"I said 'book'."
Pause. "What does that mean?"
"Do you have your mobile with you?"
"No."
"In predictive texting, if you write 'cool,' it comes out as 'book.'"

Start the propellers.

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Blog Post Posted January 29, 2008, 1:57 pm by Dan Sadowsky

Our Work in Sudan

After six up-and-downs in airplanes ranging from a Boeing 757 to a 19-seat Beech Airliner, Miguel and I reached Juba, Sudan, yesterday morning. Richard Haselwood, Mercy Corps' Sudan country director, flew from Khartoum this morning to meet us. Richard is a veteran aid worker who's focused on Africa for much of his career, including the last three years in Sudan. He briefed us on security protocols and gave us a broad program overview at the Sunflower hotel, a complex of shipping containers converted into basic accommodations on the banks of the White Nile.

Photo: Miguel Samper for Mercy Corps

How would you describe southern Sudan and the transitional areas we're working in?
In many ways it is the land that time forgot. There is very little infrastructure, and until the war ended in 2005, there were few permanent buildings and only a few kilometers of paved road in an area twice as big as Texas. But now people are flooding back, along with lots of investment from the U.S. and European governments as well as the UN agencies.

What's the context of our work here?
Sudan ended its 21-year civil war in January 2005 with a Comprehensive Peace Agreement that establishes semi-autonomy for southern Sudan and sets up a Government of National Unity. It establishes milestones for democratic reforms, revenue and power sharing, national elections and, ultimately, a referendum on self-determination for southern Sudan.

What's the focus of our programs here?
Primarily to strengthen the existing peace. No one wants to see Sudan return to war, so we're doing things that support the implementation of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement and contribute to the development of areas that were either decimated or nearly abandoned during wartime.

And how are we doing that?
Two ways. One is through infrastructure projects — building schools, police stations, community centers and marketplaces — and economic-development opportunities, like increasing local agricultural production, that support the flood of people returning to southern Sudan and demonstrate a tangible "peace dividend." The second is by helping "civil society" groups — community groups who are neither government- nor business-related — develop the skills to better play their appropriate role in a democratic society. We're helping these groups be more effective and find linkages within Sudan, whether their mission is to empower women, improve children's health, raise awareness about HIV/AIDS or increase adult literacy.

Where are we doing this?
We have several project sites across southern Sudan, but our main focus is in communities along the border between the north and south —war-torn areas that are now critical to a peaceful Sudan. Three of these communities were singled out for special treatment in the peace agreement: communities in Blue Nile state, Southern Kordofan, and Abyei. Abyei is unique because it is administered by the Presidency and has representation and citizenship in both a northern state and a southern state.

How does our work in southern Sudan and in the border region relate to the conflict in Darfur?
The CPA essentially lays out a road map for a new and different Sudan. It's the first step toward addressing the concerns of the entire country, not just the problems between north and south. Self-determination, national elections, transparent resource sharing and development ... these are all things in the CPA that mirror many of the concerns of people in Darfur. So, if the CPA is implemented, our work in the transitional areas and in southern Sudan can lay the foundation for a model for post-war recovery and rehabilitation in Darfur. If, on the other hand, the CPA breaks down, there would be little hope for obtaining peace in Darfur.

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