Making Friends

I would like to introduce you all, formally, to Nya Gwa. She is a very good friend, and has been in South Sudan for around two years now, working in a couple of different roles. Right now she is working in a refugee camp in the north of the country, close to border with Sudan. I am going to let you in on a conversation we have been having about friendships. Imagine us both relaxing on a couple of garden chairs, in the garden of a bar, facing the Nile. Nya Gwa has come to Juba for some R and R and has meet me in a place with some cool beats, a slight breeze, and twinkling fairy lights. We have a couple of beers on the table, and are quietly talking about the people we have met…

This is total rubbish of course. I am, indeed, sitting in the garden of that bar, but Nya Gwa has been working in a small office with no furniture for the last few months, sweating heavily and cursing the lack of wine… But still, just picture it anyway, it adds to the ambiance of the piece…

Me:

“…Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining about the usual social life here. Meeting new people here is pretty easy. The Kawadja hangouts are full of people in a casual conversation kind of mood. Talking to new people in the bars here is much easier than in the UK. It is ok to start conversations with people you have not met. The conversation usually starts with you saying “Hi. My name is Bob. I work for [insert NGO]. How long have you been here for?” The reply is just a repetition, you get the same information back. It is like people are giving out their C.V. in verbal form. However, if you see an overlap or area of common interest, it is possible to start up a conversation which can go on all night, developing into an acquaintanceship and then into friendship. If not, then you can just go and talk to the next person. “

Nya Gwa:

“Oh, that ubiquitous conversation, it drives me insane. It’s like the first week of university when the conversation is always “my name is ….. I come from…… I am studying ……”. But yes, it is easier to strike up a conversation here, the main difficulty is in trying to strike up a conversation that isn’t about work, which can be a struggle.”

“Yeah, that is a problem. I still have trouble cracking that one. But what about the non-kawadja population? It is possible, depending on where you work and play, to go most of the day without seeing one of these rare people. How do we start friendships with them? This one is much more of a conundrum to me. You see, most initial conversations with people we meet in the street and talk to go along these lines-

Me: “Good morning, how are you?”

Response: “Give me money.” Or “Have you got a job for me?”

“As a woman, there’s the whole other aspect of it, which is ‘hello, how are you?’ leading to declarations of love/saying they want to be ‘your good friend’/in one case, a man literally saying ‘Hello. Will you have sex with me?’ on the streets of Juba. In fact, because of this, I don’t start up conversations with men in South Sudan unless it’s necessary. Which is sad, but it’s true. I mean, within in a lot of the cultures here just a woman striking up a conversation with a man is pretty slutty – for example in Nuer and Dinka cultures, women don’t eat in front of men, they don’t drink in front of men. One of my national staff proudly says that when he returns home from a day of work his wife does not speak to him but just brings him some tea and then goes away. Also, I have to realize that even men who I do not perceive as in my category of potential dates, ie married men in their 50s, are perceiving me as in their range. So, there’s a whole other level going on.

The problem is, few South Sudanese women speak good English, or indeed, any English at all, especially once you leave Juba. I often provoke lots of laughter with women when I play with their children here, but it’s not really an opportunity to make a ‘proper’ friendship.”

“Alright, you trump me there. I don’t get marriage proposals. That must be a bit of a bugger. But you mention one of your staff. What about those people we meet during the course of our work? I can tell you. Most ask for more wages, which is a fair question as I am usually employing temporary teams of people to collect survey data. But let me give you an example of what happens outside of that employer-employee relationship. One of my data collectors, who I had employed on a couple of occasions now and got on well with, called me during one project and asked to meet me. She said there was a particular problem that I could help them with. When I met her, she explained that she was trying to go back to school and needed some help as it was expensive and the jobs in South Sudan do not pay very much. I suggested that I could help with finding details of scholarships in other countries, like Uganda or Kenya. But that answer was not completely satisfying to her. She did not complain further, but I could see that she was looking for financial help.

She was an employee, but how about colleagues from other organisations? Not being an employer means I should be treated with a little more equality, right? Nope. On a project with a partner organization, one of my partner colleagues asked if I would like to go for a walk through the town we had just arrived in. I figured this for a friendly gesture, so I willingly accepted. Over coffee in a little tea shop, my ‘friend’ starts talking about education being a challenge in South Sudan. In particular, the lack of good universities for him to finish his schooling, and the cost of going to elsewhere.

Do you see where this conversation was heading? I did, before the words 'I need a little help, but only within your capacity to help' were even uttered.“

“That story is very familiar. Asking for money for school, or for a plane ticket to the UK, has happened a lot of times. Also for clothes, for a watch, for a computer, whenever you go back to the UK. There doesn’t seem to be the conception that things are expensive in the UK, actually more expensive than if they bought these things from Kenya.

But yes, I’ve lived here for two years. Do I have any South Sudanese friends? I would say I only made friends with one South Sudanese person who wasn’t part of the diaspora. I am friendly with my current staff, for sure, and they don’t ask me for money anymore. But, the reality is, whenever I leave this job I won’t have any way of keeping contact with them. And, I am their boss, so, there has to be some level of distance socially.

It makes me sad that there is this gap. Sometimes I feel guilty about it, and feel I should make more of an effort. But, at the end of the day, I spend most of my time at work interacting with people of a massively different culture from me, in a very stressful environment. When I’m finished I am tired and just want something familiar to hold on to. Someone who I can talk freely with rather than worrying about what words I use or whether they will understand what I say.”

“I just met a new colleague today. Comes from my hometown. Nothing beats talking to someone from home. I’m English, I miss sarcasm. But I do wonder about that effort. I feel like I failed a little bit. My efforts to even try and find non-kawadjas is failing. I wonder if the anthropologists have it right? Perhaps we should immerse ourselves?

Of course, the trouble with that is we have no bloody time to do that. We have too much work to do, and cannot sit around just talking to and studying people all day. I think you hit on something when you said your staff no longer ask you for money. Perhaps it just takes time and patience on our part. Perhaps we just need to keep explaining that we cannot give money, and eventually we might break through that barrier that all people have here. The barrier that says all kawadjas are rich, and can save us by giving us things.”