My ribs still a tad painful from where my elbow went into them on my fall, so no jogging Also too lazy! I do have Japanese magic pads to ease the discomfort. My running magazine has suggested a core-muscle workout as an alternative to shaking the ground.
Sunday Papers, my painting of a man sitting in a sack of sorghum reading a news paper. There’s something timeless about reading a news paper, and it’s probably disappearing from our futures. The bag of sorghum is from the supplies handed out to the displaced people in the PoC sites, and that it’s in the market highlights how badly handouts distort local markets.
Weary after fighting with my painting. Not sure if it’s because I didn’t have a clear idea of where the painting was heading, or tried to do to many things with it. Perhaps it’s simply an indication of too little sleep with my painful ribs, or the coming to the end of my time in South Sudan, and my mind distracted by the unknown next steps??
A temper tantrum type storm. Night sky full of lightning. Wind, gathering its strength. Thundering, bellowing.
Craziness outside the PoC that has reviewing our security plans and contingencies in case things get out of control. Volatile it certainly is, despite the progress being made in Arusha.
VIP conveys turning the drive to the airport into a lottery. The checkin, a seething mass of people and luggage piled in any vacant spot to keep it dry with a storm breaking over Juba Town.