I was supposed to depart from Juba for Torit at 8:30am, but when I called at 9:30am I was informed that Charles, the hired driver (government and military have said no to walking), was sick with a bout of malaria. Martin, his business partner, arrived at 10:30am with a Dinka driver and said that the car was no longer available (though he had arrived to the Logali House Hotel in the car we were to travel in) and that we would need to travel in a Landcruiser, meaning the price went from $170 to $300. I said no and that I could pay no more than $200. He explained there is no fuel left in Juba. Martin negotiated with the alternative driver and he said he would take $200 if he could sell the remaining four seats.
At the same time I had a side deal negotiation going with Paul Tobian the Duty Manager at the hotel. Paul’s deal came in at $150 with me as the solo passenger. After I explained to Martin that I could not travel with other passengers in the vehicle, I said my goodbyes to him and the other driver. We are leaving in ten minutes. As we depart into the unknown factor of rebel activity and military checkpoints along the road to Torit, I have an ear worm right now playing Robert Earl Keen’s song, ‘…the road goes on forever and the party never ends…’ Peace!
*later that day*
The drive to Torit was a journey to remember for sure and it’s only day four of the expedition. With the transport deal done, all that was left to do was cross the River Nile via the Juba Bridge and head for Nimule before taking the hard turn left onto the road to Torit. Easier said than done. Just after the bridge Augustine my driver said we needed to stop for some water. It took crossing all of Juba to finally understand exactly what the hired driver meant when he said that I had put my life into his hands.
The next thing I knew I was selling the three remaining seats in the dilapidated old Toyota van to three guys and a kid. The going rate according to Augustine was 80 South Sudanese Pound per seat (about $20 if you are dealing with local black market exchange rates). That meant that I sold three seats for a total of $60.
When everyone was situated, we started the drive south on a very nice tarmac road. That didn’t last long, soon we were on a dirt roller coaster with Volkswagon size potholes that slowed us down to a turtles pace. The countless military checkpoints didn’t help either. At each one Augustine had to palm away varied denominations amounting from 10 to 25 South Sudanese Pounds.
Nothing like pulling over to the side of the road and a guy waiting for your donation to his cause to allow you to proceed. Just for effect, the old AK47 on his shoulder makes the decision easy.