The First 48

Having successfully landed in Sudan and after battling through the sweaty masses that overwhelmed the tiny and chaotic arrivals area, my luggage was subject to inspection by a tall soldier in blue camouflage. While he rummaged through my tshirts, undies and sandals, I wondered what terrain his outfit was suitable for – I guess if he ever needs to take cover in the land of the giant smurfs, he was set. Honestly though, he was an intimidating presence, tall and toned with three obvious horizontal scars on each side of his head, typical of the scarification practiced by some of the tribes here. I certainly wasn’t going to poke fun at his fashion sense. At least not to his face.

I was met by our country director and taken to the office where I got lost in a flurry of introductions and heat. I think “sweat” is going to be a continuing theme in my life here. After security briefing, and signing for my work laptop, it was time to go home. Our assistant financial controller is named Joseph. I live in his room. We haven’t met yet but I certainly am grateful that he is away and I am able to claim temporary squatters rights.

One of my golden rules when arriving somewhere new, is to accept invitations. Always. Jet lagged and tired? Too bad. Suck it up and get out there. There is no time better than the present to start fitting in. Second rule: Gin helps. I was lucky that my arrival coincided with the birthday of one of my colleagues/housemates, so I joined for the celebration and the place we went to served gin (amen).

The next day my line manager returned from the field and we met for the first time. She lives across the hall from me (and Joseph). I joined her and 2 of the other senior managers for a drink at a bar later that night and with the Nile at my back and another gin and tonic in front of me, I was pleased that I wasn’t home on my own. Still, it usually takes some time to really feel comfortable and like you belong, able to easily slip into conversation as someone who has always been part of the dialogue. I was glad to discover that our security advisor was there with some security industry friends because I already knew that he was easy to get along with and was able to strike up quite a fun conversation with one of his buddies. When we passed through a party later in the evening, I lost my original group and ended up with the security crowd with more gin at yet another bar. The knowledge that I had just technically “ditched” my boss certainly wasn't beyond me.

I need to back track a bit and outline some of the highlights of my security training: no walking after dark, only use the work driver and vehicle for transportation, and obey the curfew of 1am on Fri/Sat (midnight all other days).

So at 12:55 as the guys are ordering up another round of gin, I happen to look at my watch and say that we better make a move. As much as I would like to go into further detail, I will not, on grounds that I could incriminate myself. Let’s just say that I eventually did get home (surely only a moment or two past 1?), became very grateful that the senior management team are moving into their own house very soon and will never again be sitting at the kitchen table waiting when I get in – which I guarantee will never ever, again be a second past 12:59.