A warm 36 degrees as a welcome back to Juba Town, with not one of my three Internet options working. Dark clouds threatening rain. On the easel a painting of the Impala LIlies.
After my 12 hour day of meetings and sorting the security clearances for the repatriation to Ethiopia of the bodies of two of our contract staff killed by drowning and electrocution, I needed my jog, even if it was a tad darker than I feel comfortable being out and about. I fought my way around the loop and stumbled across what I can only think were nightjars in the road.
Governors Forum in South Sudan, the usual frank discussions between various levels of government. Protocol observed, the vigorous debate done within guidelines of politeness.
The devastation in the Philippines made personnel with one of my staff finally managing to trace his 7 year old daughter and her mother. Thankfully alive, after weeks of no contact. His home trashed and no communication or access to his home due to the debris on the island of Eastern Samar, at a place called Guiuan, where the first landfall of the monster storm took place.
Huge storm, patio flooded, jogging shoes saturated, painting safe. Amazingly I actually have tomatoes and avo’s from the market, curtesy of our caterers at the office. Some sort of normality after the craziness.
I lost my reason
Over a paint job on bespoke bedroom cupboards:
Out of context.
And then my in-box
A plea for Leave of Absence
For a father
To find his his daughter
And her mother.
In the typhoon waste:
A teddy bear
A blanket scrap
A twisted vest
A sodden household of clumped-together
That paint swatch is