Loki

The clouds parted and below lay huge swaths of browns, yellows and whites. To one side, an ocean of sand stretched as far as the eye could see. On the other, dry river beds resembling the muddy streams of the Mississippi Delta meandered into the distance, trickling down distant dark mountain tops.

Loki (“LOW-key”), short for Lokichoggio, is said to be busier than Kenyatta International in Nairobi. This town is the central base for most of the humanitarian efforts in the Sudan, Uganda and other sites in the African Interior. There is a huge UN compound nearby, and at least half of the vehicles are part of some UN program: FAO, WFP, UNICEF, etc. There were all kinds of other NGOs, from Samaritan’s Purse to CEAS (Church Ecumenical Action in Sudan) and Medicins sans Frontiers to Vetinarians without borders, each with their own vehicle.

So what does the UN and all these other NGOs drive? None other than the Toyota LandCruiser. They come in all shapes and sizes here, from pick-up trucks to full-blown defenders. I thought I had walked onto a set for a movie or documentary on some human relief crisis.

We loaded into the vehicle with CEAS logo on the side and drove into town. I was immediately reminded of La Concordia, a border and outlaw town in Ecuador I had spent three weeks in two years ago. The main road was superb for Africa, a tarmacked blade cutting through time immortal. Yet change was happening. Bars had crept into these traditional structures of mud, grass and tin, spilling their beer and alcohol into the streets and flooding the town with other “relief” efforts.

We arose early to catch our 6:20 AM flight. We arrived at 6:30 AM when the airport opened. Such are the ambitious in this remote area. Our group of 5 outnumbered the other two passengers and pilots. The cool desert air hid secret the adventures to come, tingling my senses and making me believe I was hallucinating. So far, so good- I haven’t woken up, and I’m still alive.