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| February 1, 2009 |
Goz Amir
Koukou Angarana
Market day, Feb 1,2009
On my final night in Goz Beida we dropped by the EUFOR base, an immense, somewhat surreal structure (given the setting) with high walls topped by barbed wire, a moat, a sea of state-of-the-art tents (air conditioned), all sorts of military vehicles and the whole, vast compound flooded with light. This had previously been the middle of no-where. The Irish soldiers are lovely. The people here love them but they wish there could be more of them, in more locations. The women at Djabal refugee camp said this is the first time since they arrived in 2003, that they have felt safe while collecting firewood in the hills. Their presence has thwarted at least one major attack said to be planned by Arab tribes in Darfur. But the banditry continues, humanitarian vehicles are hijacked regularly and their compounds have been attacked, many since Christmas. Our visit to Eufor was just to introduce ourselves, inform them we would be traveling in the east and get an emergency number. Just in case. But actually no phone works in Koukou. At the moment even thurayas aren't working. Since the Eufor folks were heading out for a patrol anyway, they kindly escorted us back to the UNICEF compound. The convoy of three vehicles included a tank-like thing with treads.
I heard gunshots at night but that's Goz Beida- donkeys and gunfire. It's far more peaceful here in Koukou. You can walk around the town until 10pm! But trouble isn't far- east of Ade (the border with Darfur) Chadian rebels have gathered. We've been told to keep a one 15-kilo evacuation bag packed in case they come through Koukou on their way to attack the capital.
The 40-minute journey from Koukou to Goz Amir camp is beautiful and full of interesting sights. A deeply rutted dirt path winds through trees, following the river (which is now almost dry). At the rivers edge a large herd of camels, tended by Arab nomads, grazed. They are moving toward Sudan (Darfur). We saw a family of giant baboons, more monkeys than I could count, and flocks of birds as big as me- sort of like cranes but much bigger. There were people on donkeys and on camels heading for the camp-Saturday is market day at Goz Amir. They come from the town of Koukou and from nearby villages.
By mid-day the market was teeming. People milling through the stalls filled with spices, vividly colored cloths, wooden donkey saddles, -- all sorts of goods. The Arab women are said to be the most beautiful on earth. Many wear a silver ring in their right nostril and they dress differently from the non-Arab women but equally colourfully. A few times I asked if I could take a picture but all three declined. Unlike the residents of the camp who invariably greet us warmly, the Arab women look away.
At least a hundred men in their white jalabias (gowns to the ankle) were gathered by the riverbank, praying under an enormous, perfectly shaped tree. Men on camels passed slowly by. Donkeys stood patiently as goods were piled high on their backs, s and there was lively talk everywhere. It crossed my mind that perhaps this marketplace is not so different from the way a market place would have been 2000 years ago.
At 4am last night the braying of a particularly loud donkey awakened me. But within minutes came the beautiful sound of the call to prayer. The early morning noises are the chickens, chatter of children and women, and a dove-like sounding bird. No filming today because the aid workers don't go to the camp on Sundays.
Sundays aside, each morning at 7;30 we leave for the camp in convoy with other Ngos. The drive is about 40 minutes. We have to leave the camp (security regulation) at 4pm. I'm absolutely thrilled by yesterday's filming. Thanks to Gaele our technical problems are solved; we require shade, direct sunlight casts impossible contrasts on faces (not to mention the possibility of sunstroke), but trees can be hard to find. We also need relative quiet. This too is a challenge. At Djabal camp in Goz Beida, as soon as we set up our equipment we were engulfed by people, especially by scores of totally adorable, curious children, most with streaming noses. Although they did try to be silent, there were coughers, commentators, pushers and pickpockets. While we were filming a singer, a group of kids persisted in unzipping my backpack and pulling stuff out. The swiped items --Chap Stick, comb, my note pad, pens, and sun block were eventually returned by other kids- except for the pens. I brought at least a dozen ballpoint pens (gel pens don't work in this heat) I have only one left. Of course the irony is that this project is intended to be for the children, and for their children's children etc. Nevertheless, it is essential to hear the person speaking -as clearly as possible.
So- we have set up our "studio" at the edge of Goz Amir camp where it's quiet, between a couple of scrawny trees which provide a measure of shade. We continually move our mats (on which the people sit) according to the position of the sun. David is impressively accomplished in operating camera and sound equipment. After considerable research in advance of the trip, we purchased a professional video camera, also a far less expensive, back up one, and two sound devices. We're taping onto memory cards, as we feared tapes would melt over a period 4 weeks under fierce sun, in a climate that can top 110 degrees. I think we packed wisely "only essentials" and only what we can carry ourselves. But we are wishing we had brought more granola bars. And pens.
We bought woven straw fences or walls called "seko" in the market, to block the wind and/or the burnt out background. Today we had expected musicians to come, but instead several women arrived, already singing boisterously and dancing. I heard the words "Omer Al-Bashir". They were accompanied by Oumda Musa of the Masalit tribe who explained that he had selected them to sing traditional songs. As the Omer Al-Bashir song ended as we were still scrambling to set up our camera as they launched into a song about the attack of their village in which 62 people died. But the third song was the one they used to sing in their fields back in Darfur, as they were cutting the sorghum. They mimed with sticks and axes as they danced and sang. The fourth song was in praise of the courage of the Masalite in battle- -again with extremely energetic choreography, miming fighting. They had brought round, woven platters, which they used as "shields". The fifth was the song for weddings-- a joyous song. The sixth was the song for circumcision- one of the major rites of passage celebrated by the entire village and by visitors from neighboring villages. They do not talk about the other circumcision-the one for girls which is the most extreme kind of cutting and is practiced only in Sudan-although it is illegal- and I think also in Somalia.
The last song was a very moving one; "We long for Sudan" they sang. "We are missing Sudan".
They also sang their thanks to the "kiwadji" - white people and the humanitarian organizations who are helping them to survive in Chad.
There was a song for the grinding of the grain. It was explained that when a person died the whole village gathered with the relatives. Friends and acquaintances from neighboring villages also arrived with food. At night, the women would grind grain on a stone; they demonstrated how they did this in unison as they sang the song of the grinding of the grain. "The sound of the song must be sad" we were told. And this is traditional both for the Fur and the Masalit people.
Various women gave us the context of each song. Oumda Musa translated with deep feeling. Every time I thanked him he said, "But this is for me, for us. This is for Darfur."
Here is what he said about the traditions surrounding death:
" When a person is going to die they place him on a pallet facing Mecca. We ask him, if he can, to say "shahadi" so that he will be in paradise. They place pieces of the Koran around him so that God will send angels to take him. Not dogs or bad things. Nice smells. Then the bathe him and put him in pure cotton clothes and they bring a bed made of wood. People say prayers while they progress to the graveyard. All people stand in respect; The Imam says " pray for him". This is the last thing people can do for their brother. We ask God to forgive him if he has made any mistakes. They place him on his right side and put some thing on top of him so the earth does not touch him. Again they ask God for forgiveness.
"People stay with the relatives for 7 days; sleep there, eat there-reading the Koran. No laughter, no jokes. We must show how sorry we are.
"After 7 days you can eat. People come from far away. Relations must stay at home to receive people.
After 40 days, relatives again make food and call people to eat. Children, men, women. People say you must be patient; then you are going to forget. The women have not washed their hair all this time but now they can was hair and put on beautiful clothes. Women spend all night grinding grain for flour. We drink tea. Men give money to the relatives, women bring dried ochre, sesame, millet, peanuts and sorghum.
"It is shameful if you don't bring food to help this family, so the community is going to help."