Swamp Feet

I think I’m finally starting to get the hang of this swamp walking thing.

Perhaps I should explain …

Back in October, I moved from Juba (Juba County, Central Equatoria State and capital of Southern Sudan) to Ganyliel (Panyijar County, Unity State and at least a day’s journey to the nearest big town).  Same organization, new job, newish surroundings (I had visited Ganyliel before (as anyone who read last year's bat post might remember)). It’s been a bit of an adjustment, but I couldn’t be happier¹. A lot (actually, most) of what I do in my new position is office work, but every once in awhile I get a chance to trek out to one of the villages where the program that I manage is being implemented.  So far, these trips are one of – if not the – best parts of my job (even when they don’t go quite as smoothly as planned).  They’re also where the swamp walking comes into the picture.  My program uses 13 primary healthcare facilities in Panyijar County as bases of operation … and only one of those facilities can be reached by car year-round (the same facility is a short 3 minute walk from my office, so that’s not saying that much).  You know how every once in awhile you see someone eating a salad that’s practically soup and you think “gee, would you like some salad with your dressing?”? Well, if Panyijar County is the meal in question, the salad is dry land … and the rest is swamp (terrible metaphor, I know, but humor me – I’ve got vegetables on the mind). The dry season here tends to start in late September/early October.  It’s now January, and the car can still only reach 2 of the 12 facilities that are further afield (err, a-swamp?).  We’re hoping to add 3-5 more to the list by next week, with facilities 6 – 11 due to join the mix in February(ish).  The way to facility #12, I’ve been told, won’t be dry until April … giving us a whole month of vehicle access before the rains start up again in May.  The program, however, doesn’t stop running while the county’s underwater … hence, swamp walking!

Today’s trek was my fourth² and like I said, I think I’m starting to finally get my “swamp feet.” Now, please do bear in mind that getting one’s swamp feet is still a world apart from being born with Nuer legs (as far as I can tell, my Program Officer’s stride barely changes when he hits the water … mine, on the other hand, slows to what might be generously defined as a crawl).  That being said, I thought I’d share some of the swamp savvy I’ve accumulated during these past three months:

plastic sneakers
(ideal, as it turns out, for swamp walking!)

·         DO be extremely discriminating about your shoes. So far I’m 2 for 4 on this one.  I think it’s because my American commonsense is at odds with Sudanese commonsense.  To wit: the morning of my first trek found me energetically keeping pace with two Sudanese colleagues. I – clad in my comfortable and sturdy running shoes – couldn’t believe the shoes they were wearing. They – one in a pair of rubber flip-flops and the other sporting plastic sneakers – thought I was equally crazy. My thinking had been that a 20 mile walk called for proper shoes; theirs was that a 20 mile walk with big stretches of swamp scattered throughout it called for shoes that could either be easily slipped off or that wouldn’t turn into sodden boots of sand and mud along the way. As I quickly found out, my way of thinking was in the minority. I’m not exaggerating when I say that every single person we passed as we walked down the airstrip stopped to greet us and then say “she’s really going to walk in those shoes?” 

      At first, I thought it was kind of amusing – fashion advice from all these old Nuer men! – but it didn’t take me long to realize just how right they were. By the end of the day, I had accumulated five blisters and what felt like as many pounds of sand in my shoes.  Lesson learned … at least for the next two trips (wore flip-flops on trip 2 and my Birkenstock sandals on trip 3). That perverse American commonsense wasn’t finished with me yet though … I gave the sneakers a second chance on this most recent trek, and learned my lesson all over again. (As a minor saving grace, I was smart enough to only wear them for the dry bits (so for less than one of the 5 hours we were on foot)). From now on though, it’s strictly sandals for me!

·         DON’T be squeamish about whipping the aforementioned foot gear off at the first hint of moisture.  If you want to avoid taking a full body swamp bath, bare feet really are key.

·         DO find yourself a solid walking stick. They’re quite helpful balance-wise … and also useful for those times when the big cow coming your way needs to be nudged in the other direction.

·         DON’T take your cues from your local colleagues when it comes to hydration and sunscreen.  On average, I’ve found that a 1 ½ liters to 1 sip ratio works well (that is, one sip of water keeps my Sudanese colleagues as hydrated as 1 ½ liters of water for me).

·         DO take advantage of having your colleagues at your “mercy” and ask them to explain all sorts of things you’ve been wondering about. My Nuer vocabulary doubles every time I go on one of these walks, and it’s always fun to hear the America questions they’ve been saving up.

My intrepid guides
(Angelina is at the far left & Mary is center with the blue wrap)

·         DO follow the leader.  I hit the jackpot guide-wise on this week’s walk when two of the community volunteers for my program took me under their wings.  Mary, a spry grandmother appointed herself chief navigator … feeling out the best routes, turning around any time she hit a slippery bit to make sure I knew something tricky was coming, deftly lifting giant snails out of the water and tossing them aside (with her feet, nonetheless – and without breaking her stride!), tucking aside the enormous brambles hanging down from the Acacia trees.  She was an absolute marvel.  And then there was Angelina, walking patiently at my back the entire way.  She, too, was a marvel – carrying two heavy metal boxes on her head the whole time and yet she still didn’t hesitate to grab my hand if she thought I looked unsteady.  She has all the balance and grace that I could ever hope to have … and then some :-)

·         DON’T lift your trailing foot until your leading foot is firmly planted

swamp scenery

·         DO pay attention to each and every step – easier said than done!

·         DON’T let yourself think about all the critters that are probably all swimming around you (this is where having to pay attention to every step comes in handy)

·         DO nibble on all the random fruits that get handed to you. Most recently I’ve gotten to try a small fruit called kwat (quite tasty – a little sweet, a little sour) and another fruit that tasted a bit like raisins.

·         DON’T try to walk and take in the scenery at the same time

·         DO stop and plant your feet every now and then so you can take a look around; it’s just too beautiful not to!

cattle grazing in the swamp

·         DO shake every hand

·         DON’T ever stop smiling and laughing

·         DO insist that you’re too dirty to sit inside the car and snag a spot in the cab of the truck on the way back. Not only is it good fun, but the wind and sun will make short work of your wet clothes.

·         DO thoroughly enjoy the shower and meal waiting for you back in at the compound … lentils will never have tasted so good!

Back in Ganyliel and dirty from head ...

... to toe!

¹ Well, short of all you guys (and perhaps a cheese factory) joining me here, I couldn’t be happier :-)

² Trek 1: Ganyliel to Pachak (and back); entirely on foot³; approx 20 miles total

  Trek 2: Ganyliel to Dekom (and back); ½ car (3 miles), ½ walking (4 miles)

  Trek 3: Ganyliel to Tiap (and back); entirely on foot; approx 10.5 miles total

  Trek 4: Ganyliel to Pakam (and back); 1/3 car (~6 miles), 2/3 walking (~12 miles)

³ Ok, ok, it would have been entirely on foot if I hadn’t gotten hit with a fairly miserable case of heatstroke on the way back (even still, I made it 18.7 miles before getting picked up by the car that was sent to retrieve the (and this is a direct quote) “white woman, stuck in the mud!”)