The Face of Poverty

The Face of Poverty

One year ago when I was living on a beautiful Australian beach, before going to South Sudan even crossed my mind, I had a random conversation with a man about my future plans; I told him that I see myself working in development and he got really upset, telling me that ‘charity starts at home’, that there are many people in Australia that need help. While I didn't disagree with this statement, I tried to explain to him that there is no poverty in Australia, being poor in a first world country will often mean that you can’t afford an Iphone. I might be amplifying, but being poor in a Western country is hardly comparable to the extreme vulnerability of a poor person in Africa. In Australia everyone has a roof on top of his head and access to health services and basic education. So how can you compare it with the billion (!) people in the world that don’t have access to clean water?

With half of South Sudan’s population below poverty line, the quality of life in the country is extremely gloomy.  The country has the highest maternal mortality rate in the world. It ranks fourth in global deaths from malaria and suffers some of the world’s highest child death rates. It is not a surprise when 60% of the population has no access to health care. The situation in education is equally grim. Around 1 million children, half of the primary school age population, are out of school. Moreover, not even half of the population has access to clean water supply, and around 7% have sanitation.

In the last 3 month these dry statistics became people’s faces, it became the face of a blind old lady in the market and the face of street boy eating a rotten watermelon.

There are many reasons to why those countries are in the situations that they are in, and different people have different explanation. Paul Collier points out the different traps of the developing world such as a land locked country, a long conflict, natural resources and bad governance. Come to think about it, the case of South Sudan to verify his point. I also find Thomas Pogge’s view interesting; claiming that poverty is a violation of human rights because it is caused by the west, forcing us to take responsibility.  He said: “We call it tragic that the basic human rights of so many remain unfulfilled and are willing to admit that we should do more to help. But it is unthinkable to us that we are actively responsible for the catastrophe.” Colonisation, domination by the west and discriminating international opportunities put some in a worse off position.

I thought that coming here will give me some answers about why the situation is like it is and maybe on what we can do. But 3 month on I don’t have any answers; in fact, I have even more questions. Poverty, just like its derivatives and causes are complex issues, shaped by limitless factors; from a person’s own perception, to culture, to history, to geography, to national leadership and international agenda.Being here made me realize though, that in realty causes, reasons and explanations are meaningless and what really matters is what being vulnerable really means to people life.

A question of culture

A few weeks ago a cousin of one of my colleagues died, he died young from an unknown cause, not very exceptional in Africa. A few days later I have learnt that the family is planning to marry one of his brothers to another wife so she could have children which will be named after the dead brother, so the dead person will have ‘children’ to carry on his name. I was a little bit confused and very curios and I just had to ask about 15 hundred questions. I didn’t really fully understand, but this is culture, so I have been explained. And it is not just that, there are many aspects that are exceedingly different, especially in regards to marriage and family life. 

Apart from marrying a women to the name of a deceased, if a person dies and he already has a wife, his brother will marry his wife or wives. In some tribe the wish of the women will be considered, in other it is meaningless. These kinds of customs come from an entirely different state of mind, where marriage is not based on things like love, companionship, reciprocal feelings and mutual affection, rather, a marriage is based on an agreement of each side role in the family and a woman is purchased into the husband family. Girls are bought from their parents with the price of anything between 7 goats to 210 cows; the price apparently is higher the younger the girl is and in some tribes - taller.  Then the girl will move to the husband family were she will be responsible for all the domestic work, as well as working in the field and of course bearing children. Naturally the richer the man the more wives he can afford; no limits in numbers and often no minimum age of the girl. The wealth of a person is in fact measured by the amount cattle, wives and children he owns.

One of the collogues asked me what is the price of a wife in my country, I tried to explain that you don’t pay anything, it didn’t go so well as the reaction was ‘really?! women are for free?’ it was difficult to explain that in my culture women are not a commodity, they are equal to men and that marriage is not an exchange ‘market style’ between families. They were not to impresses, asserting that if there is no payment, the marriage has no value.

As I was sitting with my colleagues discussing all this interesting new information I started thinking on of all these differences. I promised myself not to criticize, but in my head I did a whole lot of judgment; about the society who treats women like a commodity, about how ridiculous it is to get some poor girl pregnant just so a dead person will then have children that are not even his. But all these critical thought made me realize something, there are many ‘family planning’ related practices in my culture which I have never questioned before. In my society there are single parent families, gay couples can now be parents, and women can freeze their ovaries so they could have children in a later age, or even let another woman carry their child for 9 months for them. I grew up to these changes and always thought it is just normal, if it makes you happy why not? 

Obviously, as I raised these points in front of my colleagues they were to say the list - horrified, baffled by my attempts to explain the lab procedure that allows another woman to carry someone else’s fetus, or why I don’t think gay people are sick. They absolutely did not see my point. So I guess my point is that I really can’t judge, as a woman I would still like to see a stronger stand for women all around the world. But different custom and practices are a question of culture.

The Story of Orasio

In one of the communities I work with there is one guy, he is not even 22 years old and although he didn’t even finish high school he is one of the most educated people in his community. He is working as the head teacher in the school and takes a very active part in the community. As the time went by I got to know him better and better and from an interviewee he became a facilitator of much of my research in the community and now he is a friend. He shows me around his beautiful country, introduces me to people and connects me with the community. He tells me about his life here, growing up during the war and the challenges and hopes the new independence brought. This is his story:

Orasio grew up in a small community in Jur River County in North-West South Sudan, living in a compound in a rural area with his father, the father's 3 wives, 6 brothers and 6 sisters; a small family in South Sudanese standards. As a child, he was mainly working in his family plot of land and grazing the goats. When he was 8 years old he got the opportunity to start school, he was really lucky as at that time and in fact also today most families are not able to send all their children to school as some need to stay home and work.

However, 3 years later, when he was 11 years old the SPLA (Sudan People’s Liberation Army, though at that time it wasn’t a recognized army, but a guerrilla movement) came to his village and demanded some men to recruit. Since the community was very small there were not enough men to go, so Orasio’s family needed to decide who would go Orasio or his father. They decided that even though he was just 11, Orasio will go so the father could stay home and take care of the family. Orasio left and walked with the rest of the people all the way to Ethiopia, around 1,200 KM, to an SPLA military training base. He spend 1 year there, training every day without an ability to leave or move freely. During the training he learned to use several weapons, ways and techniques to escape from the enemy, how to hide and how to dig holes for protection from the constant bombing.

A year later, when he was just 12 years old he finished his training and was sent back to South Sudan to fight. He spend the rainy season of that year taking part in the battles on Yirol, Rumbek and other places, which were controlled by the North. Because there were many young boys, the positions of the soldiers in attacks were organized according to the size of the combatants. While the older used the big weapons like RPG, the youngest use the small guns. One day, after around 2 month in the field, Dr. John Garang, the head of the SPLA, came by and said that all the Jiejamer – meaning young solider, should be taken outside the country so they can go to school. All the children who were 13 and younger were allowed to leave and they went to seek refuge in Kenya.  There, Orasio lived with the other children who escaped the war in South Sudan in Kakuma refugee camp and was able to go back to school. In 2006, shortly after the signing of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement between the North and the South, Orasio came back to his village. He found that his mother died and his community is left torn by conflict.

6 years later he is still working to put the pieces of his community together; he works in the school, runs the Community Based Organization, takes part in the community health committee and in the PTA and try to push his community forward. You can really see the motivations and goals in his eyes and it is amazing.

Last night, I showed him this story; I asked him if it is ok if I will publish it on my blog, he said yes but also said that I didn’t write the ending. I asked him what the ending is and he said the ending is his vision: a forward-looking, equal, prosper society, not just in his own community but throughout the country. So here it is, the ending of this story is in fact the beginning of Orasio’s new life and of the one of South Sudan.

                                                         Orasio and me

The communities

The course of my research take place in a few different communities and after 4 weeks of visits in the villages I got to know the people of the communities and they got to know me. It is great because the kids no longer stare at me, they welcome me with a smile and the people no longer call me Kuaja (white person) they use my name, well a version of my name they can pronounce… One community even decided to give me a traditional name, Michai, have no clue what it means but I’ve been told it is name to show affection, nevertheless, now every time I go there every one call me Michai.

There is one community I especially like, the community of Achot. Achot consists predominantly of Luo (or Jur, same tribe different name) ethnic group with a few Dinka living amongst them, they are a small community with very limited resources but they are the most united and collaborative community. I can’t really pin point to why they seem to be different than other communities, maybe it is the way the work collectively together, maybe it is the way the respect the alders but also the children and maybe it is because they are simply so nice to me so I can’t help but likening them so much.

In every visit, the chief and alders welcome me with respect while the children still giggles at me, trying to communicate. They people try to teach me their local language, and so far I have picked up some words. They invite me to eat with them and they laugh at my awkward way of eating with my hands (I still didn’t get the hang of it…). With every interview I make with one of the community members they thank me for my time and that I listen to them, I am really amazed as really I should be thanking them. On my last visit they bought me coke, and even though I don’t really like coke I was astonished by the gesture, they spend their little money and put in the thought and effort just to make me feel welcome and comfortable.

The villages are arranged in a way that there is a center, in which the school and the clinic are and the houses or compounds are scattered around it. The people live in the middle of their plot of land which could be 30 min or up to 2 hours walk from the center. On my visits I always go to the center of the village, but I never really saw where people live. So I was really happy when one of the guys invited me to see where he lives.

On the way to his house we walked through the lush greenery till we arrived into a circle between the plants where there were 3 tukules and a ‘living area’ in the open air in the middle. The biggest tukule belonged to his father (with his wives living somewhere else), the medium one to his brother with his wife and two children and the smallest tukule was his, because he is single and live alone. When we arrived the brother was in the field, while his wife was cooking and the kids were playing. It was truly amazing to get a real insight on how people live their everyday life.  

It has been three weeks since I have arrived in South Sudan and I can’t believe how fast the time went by. I spend most of the week days in the rural communities talking to people and learning about their lives. In the evenings and in the weekends I am in Wau, but I don’t go out much. At first I was fascinated by the city, but now it really can be emotionally draining. I found that I will often go back to my place and won’t be able to stop thinking of all the street children I didn’t give money to. Life in the village seems to be somehow better. I guess people have less, they live in simple straw huts and mostly live of what they grow in their plot of land, but they also seem to have a sense of community, they have each other, also the kids appear to be well looked after. In Wau, there is a large gap between those who have and those who don’t, while some people live in house and even have electricity, there are also many street children with warn out dirty cloths, collecting rubbish and plastic bottles to sale. The village seems to have a more egalitarian society. In one of my visits to a school I saw a young girl with one leg missing playing with the rest of the kids. In a society where being handicapped implies that you are less worthy, as you are not able to work, her being in school means that despite her disability, she as well has chance.

In one of my field trips I was quite lucky to arrive in Kuajiena, as by chance, on that day the minster of preliminary affairs was there to announce the building of a new health facility.  It was nice to watch all the school kids in perfect lines singing, and all the speeches.  It was also interesting to watch the soldiers dancing, they were dancing in circles with their guns up in the air while the women were dancing behind them making some sort noise, some kind of screams and yells. This was also the day I got to eat a goat, with my hands. It was an interesting experience, though I’m not sure I would like to repeat it. I found it quite difficult to eat hot rice full of watery sauce with my hands and as for the goat, I know here it is considered as a delicacy, but it is not really for me…

As for my research, it is going slow but it is progressing. With each interview I learn more and more about both the social and political structures that make this society. Issues of gender inequality, conflicts between different tribes and matters of power relation within the community, as well as people relations with the government are surfacing. I am particularly amazed by the different views of people, especially regarding their ability to take part and to influence. This research is really challenging my perceptions about so many things. I used to think that empowerment is an empty buzz word but slowly I’m starting to realize that actually it means something. I have interviewed quite a number of people so far and I have come to an interim conclusion that although factors such as social structure and education are important, the substantial difference between people who take active part in the community and those who don’t is that the some simply believe in their ability to do so. I guess there is much more to discover. 

Mapel, the shortfall of health services and the position of women 

I travelled to Mapel to work on my research, where I visited the local health facility. While waiting for members of a committee (who never came ...) I decided to conduct some interviews with the people who were waiting to get treatment. Doing this kind of research always holds the risk of not reaching to the most marginalized people, and finding people in a clinic which is a centre to many rural villages was a great opportunity to talk to those people. Moreover, on that day I had a female translator, which allows me to talk to women more freely, as often they don’t feel comfortable to share their real thoughts in front of a man.

I know of course that in this particular culture women marry young, man have multiple wives, and generally women are viewed as lesser to man and their ability to influence and stand up for themselves is little. I just didn’t know how little, and how it is so dominant in every aspect of their life. During the interviews with the women I realized that they are suppressed and extremely subdued, the women themselves don’t believe they are worth anything. The phrase ‘it is to my husband to decide’ kept repeating itself together with ‘I only have my role at the house’. Feminist me wanted shake those women and tell them that they matter, but when I started this research I decided that I will put my beliefs and way of life aside so I can learn about people’s life here without presumptions and judgment, so I kept quiet.

But I couldn’t let go when I saw the sick women with their children being ignored at the clinic. I saw the women waiting for hours without even being acknowledged.  Of course there are a lot of problems with health services in the country. The health facility is a simple building with poor equipment, there are no real doctors or nurses, but people who are called a ‘health worker’, which are people that in most cases didn’t even complete more than primary school and simply got a few month of training. In addition they are paid very little which affects their motivation to work.

But here is what shocked me the most, the women waiting did not say a word, none of them came up to ask when she would be seen, even when they saw the health worker just hanging there, blatantly ignoring them. In the end of my interview I asked the lady how long she is waiting and she said 6 hours. How could it be that she is sitting there for 6 hours and being ignored and don’t say anything? So I decided to speak for her, I found the health worker and brought him to her. I don’t think he was ever been ‘told off’ by a women, he was a bit angry but I didn’t care. I wanted to show her that women can also have a voice.

But it wasn’t over. In the end of the second interview the women told me the same thing, she waiting since morning. Her 9 year old daughter needed treatment, she had some sort of surgery on her leg and her bandages needed to be replaced. But the health workers were nowhere to be seen. I decided I can do it myself so I went in the clinic to get some bandages, got the first aid kit from the car and open her bandages. It was horrible. Her wound was badly infected. This girl needed antibiotics. My translator desperately tried to explain the parents that they can’t leave because the new bandages were not enough and she should get further treatment. Finally we found some health worker to inject her some antibiotics and the family left.

As for me, it is hard for me to understand why the health workers don’t treat their patients, why the women don’t stand up for themselves and why a society doesn’t seem to respect those who play such an important role in everyday life.

Dinka Cultural Night - A picture worth a 1000 words  

  the Dinka Scars