The Dude Sits Alone

The Dude is our car.

I returned to Rumbek just over a week ago to reports of a Rumbek fuel crisis – an embargo from the north. There was the likening Rumbek to the Gaza Strip which, personally, I think is a little premature, I mean 3 days without fuel and we're the Gaza Strip? Really?

Anyway. There was also this piece of astute journalism which, when I posted the link on Facebook, our fellow MCCer in Juba commented “cars grounded? You guys had flying cars in Rumbek?”.  Why yes Jacob, we sure did. I wondered.

Almost 2 weeks in I still wouldn’t say it’s Gaza-Strip-Blockade-Bad, but the fuel crisis is problematic. Our favourite khawaja haunt said that if they didn’t get their fuel truck yesterday their generators wouldn’t be able to run (remember generators and solar power is all there is around here), which means we run the risk of not being able to eat pizza – and I think I speak for all expats in Rumbek when I say that not having pizza is equivalent to hooking us up to a collective IV and slowly sucking the life-blood out of us. Then having that life blood pour out onto the floor, out the door (if this occurred indoors) and encroach on the roots of the trees. Then having the trees die from this toxic-expat-life-blood and the birds having nowhere to sit. So they begin sitting on termite mounds filled with snakes, and the snakes can easily then eat all the birds, and we lose the entire avian species in South Sudan and there is no one to blame except the fuel crisis.

Apart from the potential no pizza, it also means I am spending the day working at home. I could have biked into work but the tires needed pumping and I’m feeling lazy (haven’t had pizza in a while). There are four gas stations in town and the other day we heard someone got fuel in the market for seven pounds a litre (used to be just over two), so we drove to each of these stations. At one there were probably twenty motorbike-driver sets looking forlornly at the pumps covered in plastic. At the next three we encountered a lovely sense of camaraderie as we pulled up and were given sad “no fuel here” hands and eyes from the staff (and fellow motor-vehicle drivers also seeking this mythic seven-pound fuel).

We did manage to find twenty litres of fuel last week. I know a guy who knows a guy, but so far our gas-man hasn’t materialized again. All of this is putting a hitch into my parish visit plans, into the power situation at the home of fellow MCCers, and into the possibility of getting a cool soda in the market. There is also just the general concern of never knowing when the fuel will come again, but that said, I do think it’s a good experience to have. It’s good for all of us to realize that we are dealing with finite resources here, and that even though I feel really important it’s unlikely that all the birds will die if I don’t get my pizza. It’s good drive slowly and less. It’s good to bike to work or work from home. It’s good to be reminded that even though we try to pull away from the petrol-beast we are still very much entwined in its sticky web.  It’s good to (re)recognize that my Sudanese friends don’t have the privilege I do and a fuel crisis for me is annoying, but rising food prices for them is unbearable. So we don’t know when the fuel will come, if the borders will stay closed, or if I will have to stop being lazy and pump up my bike tires, but I do know that today I will sit at home, using my solar power, doing some work and resting in the fuel-crisis imposed slow.

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UPDATE: Just after I finished writing that blog I received news from our local radio saying the fuel crisis will end in ten days. I am skeptical, but we will see…. It also said that a litre of fuel is now up to fifteen pounds (well technically it said a “litter” of fuel is up to fifteen pounds, so there is the possibility I am misinterpreting the facts).