Main Street Landing

Black charred areas of burnt grass, dry dead brown areas and starving fainting green fields form a patch work below as the plane approaches Awiel. The small Dash 8 – bouncing around in the hot turbulent air – nervous laughter from passengers with eyes showing genuine uneasiness as we hit another pocked falling several feet. We finally slam on to the gravel, skidding and then roaring down the dirt runway with buildings, shops and vehicles much closer than I’ve seen along any other airstrip, zip by on either side of us. Like landing down Main Street, the plane taxis to the end where a crowd of some of the darkest and skinniest faces gather to take in the entertainment of the day. Sunken faces draped with skin and bones. Several military folks stand near the plane, AK47s in hand. I stick my head out of the doorway as we wait for passengers and descend to the ground, a cloud of dust whisks by causing me to squint and turn my back to it. Scanning the runway, it does indeed appear to run down Main Street, with a meager barb wire fence attempting to keep out animals and people from running in front of the plane. Donkeys pulling two wheeled carts sitting idle on the other side of the strip, people milling in front of ragged looking shop fronts, and new construction of a concrete building with men in flip flops carrying heavy loads of concrete and steel. Some guy who was also en route to Wau had stepped off and was talking to me, trying to get a job as an electrician. I took his info but told him we don’t hire electricians. A soldier who will be flying to Wau approaches the pilot, who had descended from the plane. The soldier hands the pilot his AK47, of which the pilot takes out the magazine and checks the chamber before carrying it into the cockpit. Luggage is thrown into the back to the cargo hold and I walk back up the ladder into the plane as another large dust cloud comes whirling in my direction.