Christmas in South Sudan

Another Christmas been and gone and I can't remember what it's like anywhere else.  Concessions to the holiday season in Juba have been few - a few decorations here and there and a creepy-looking Father Christmas by a roundabout being guarded by a camoflage-clad soldier.

I'm surprised the government has a soldier spare to look after old Santa, as the youth of the Nuer tribe have spent the last week launching attacks on the neighbouring Murle in Jonglei state and someone really needs to go and tell them to show a bit of festive spirit and stop it.

It hasn't been a very jolly week for security staff in Juba.  Five days ago someone shot two of our guards in the leg and stole one of our land-cruisers right outside the office in front of several onlookers.  One of the guards was told by his employer to report to work at my guest house later that evening and never mind the hole in his leg, until someone interceded on his behalf for clemency.  And on Christmas Eve three women were shot dead just around the corner, with the result that the streets were so awash with AK-47 waggling policemen that many of us couldn't get to our Christmas parties.

For me Christmas Day involved a BBQ on the banks of the Nile, shisha, party games and a Chinese-made inflatable reindeer with the price written on its face in indelible marker.

Also occupying my time these days is a 4-week old kitten who is halfway through a fortnight in my custody, and who is making exciting strides in the areas of eating solid food, chasing mouse-like objects, leaping into yawning chasms and going to the lavatory.

Diani

They say that lightning doesn't strike twice; this doesn't apply to very tall metal objects, so our radio mast got done again a while back, knocking out the internet connection just after it had been fixed after the last lightning strike.

I've just returned from holiday at Diani Beach, on the part of the Kenyan coast that isn't constantly being raided by men with eye patches and parrots on their shoulders.  We stayed at an amazing hotel where more or less the only residents were various Save the Children staff, a tame bush baby who liked to sit on people's heads in the belief that he was atop a small, leafless tree and a wicked monkey who leapt on the table at breakfast and filled his pockets with bananas and half-eaten pieces of toast.

After the stress of being in Juba or in the midst of the disaster response in the Horn of Africa we were pretty set on recharging batteries, so our days didn't involve much more than lying in hammocks perfecting our impressions of those sloths that move so slowly that moss grows in their fur.

We had a couple of entertaining nights out at Forty Thieves beach bar, but I'm afraid how the two male members of the party woke up in bed together wearing pretty floral dresses will have to remain a mystery to you all.

Bush baby on branch of small, leafless tree