the town of el fashir

The morning breeze whips across the flat sandy landscape, delivering a cool refreshment before the day time heat. The town slowly comes alive, sounds of human and animal activity magnified across the open sands. A pack of angry stray dogs chases off one that is not part of the pack; a donkey is “neighing”, sound of wood on wood echoing in the distance along with the multitude of random voices, a small car drives by, a water cart pulled by a donkey, two men in white robes flapping in the wind, a military pickup armed to the teeth, a large truck hauling sand. This is the morning scene in El Fashir. A mass of concrete buildings clutter the outskirts of town where I can see the distant horizon from the second floor building. Kites (birds not the toy) swarm in the distance, circling their morning feed. There is a similarity to Timbuktu or parts of Mali – the ancient trading town, nomadic mixing with sedentary.

El Fashir continues to be an important hub, a trading point for cereal grains grown in the area. In past years it was a major stopping point on the way to Egypt or the red sea, for many people who crossed the Sahara desert. The salt trade, religious folks on a pilgrimage to Mecca, during the wars it became strategic locations for British and French (this is my speculation since there was a lot of activity in north Africa during WWII). Another African city that has so much history and continues to slowly edge forward in time. The wars, the famine, the fighting, the rebels, the invaders, the traders, the investors – all are just passing by, passing through a city that remains humbly critical to the region.





Today there are refugee camps within and on the outskirts of town, people who have fled the fighting in the region or have been displaced due to the violence, or convenient places to stay for those who don’t want to fend for themselves in the city. Not too long ago, the violence would creep in to town; killing and raping. A feared rebel group, the Jangaweed, once funded by the government, now a menace that won’t go away – still having their demands met through their intimidation and fierce reputation. A tool used to fight a proxy war, never going away.




In the town is probably the largest UN mission ever. Countless white SUV Nissan Patrols buzz around the town, pickups full of African Union(?) troops armed to the teeth. How many billion pouring into this place each year? For how many years? And what has been the outcome? What has been the impact? From the mouth of one UN employee here – “this is the worse UN mission I’ve ever been involved in”. Bureaucratic inefficiency; staffing living for their next vacation and pay check; lack of leadership; confusing mandate.

Today is Friday and the normal slow pace of the day is even slower. It lingers in the air, each day as you get up and stand on the balcony overlooking part of the city, there is a no rush, laid back sensation that overwhelms you and knocks any intense motivation out of you. You must adjust to the current mindset or at least not let it aggravate you. A meeting time will never start on time, therefore you plan for that. There is never any apology for being late, it is not something to worry about. It will happen when it will happen, Ensha-alah – God willing. It can be a welcoming break from the intensity and overwhelming stress fed life of corporate America. Where just the opposite is true, we live in a consuming and constricting world of stress fed expectations, mounted upon us daily and forced to chase that carrot which constantly remains a foot out of reach. But it’s the mad dash after the carrot that keeps the cogs turning, in a machine that demands our sacrifice in order to grow and multiply.

For now, I’ll ride my donkey to town for a cup of tea!

Earlier there was a small Haboob (wind storm, not sure the exact translation or spelling in arabic), but basically the wind blows in a huge dust storm. Similar to a blizzard in Minnesota, without the frost bite of course. Visibility diminishes and you need to seek shelter to keep your eyes from filling up with dust and grains of sand. While traveling across the desert, caravans have to stop in these storms as visibility goes to zero.