steaming

Stepping out of my room and into the warm morning air – a suffocating sea of tranquil air. A chorus of birds stream from the mango trees above and the Nile lazily flows by on course to the Sudd. Another day is upon us, which will shortly bleed together with all the others like it. Nonstop project activities have consumed life up unto this point. The air is still and thick, swimming through it, I make my way to the dining area from some breakfast and instant coffee. The hilux is speeding down the dirt road with a cloud of dust in its wake, adding to the haze hovering over Juba. I swerve to avoid slamming into a goat and make sure to miss the pile of garbage that has been creeping out of the cemetery. The vegetation is half dead and the grave stones broken and damaged. A carcass of a van sits on the edge of road, every removable part cannibalized. The roughness in the road implore me to slow down and inch through some deeper pot holes, filled with thick green water. A couple white people are walking to their office, one of the ga-zillion do-gooders in this town, all spending money and thinking they have the answer to development in southern Sudan. The road continues passed half finished office building, the rebar and form work still there after months of abandonment. A crazy dude wearing a few rags, staggers down the road and I slow to avoid running him over. The hilux stops, in front of it is a red gate, our office.