Last days are never easy

Yesterday was my last day as Food and Beverage Manager of the good old Bedouin Bar in Juba. No, I will not be leaving Juba (although the small sane voice in my head has been urging me to do so). I will instead be making my way into Sudanese politics working for a security company that does SPLA training. This should be fun.

As to my last day. You know, I really thought I could just close eveything up, hand everything over and then my last day would just be a matter of wondering around the bar, graciously accepting free drinks from well wishers. But this is Juba, it was not to be.

We had a meat crisis. This sounds bizarre, but we did. There was no chicken or beef in the whole of Juba for 3 days. Well, there is local beef and chicken, but if you see them, trust me, its salmonella on a plate. Finally, using my excessive charm and flirting to the point of prostitution, I was able to convince one of the camp managers of another camp to part with 10kgs of beef and 20 chickens imported from Nairobi. Excellent. 'Ta-da!' I say to the chefs as I walk triumphantly into the kitchen with my prey. It cost an arm and a leg, but we managed, so we have enough for the customers for the next 5 days.

This is all Friday. This was the day of sorting to be followed by Saturday: the day of drinking. Saturday dawns, as does the food poisoning. I was poisoned by my own kitchen, the bastards. Through the haze of nausea and cramps, I manage to make my way to work, only to look over the orders for the day, and see at the bottom of the list....... 20 chickens. Excuse me? This is followed by ..... 10kg of steak. WHAT???

I wait 5 minutes to calm down, and head into the kitchen. 'CHEF!!!' I scream at the top of my voice (this is me calm, by the way. Bear in mind that my own staff had poisoned me, and the toilet had recently become my best friend). WHAT THE F**K IS THIS ORDER????? He looks at me in complete shock and asks what I mean.

Me: 'Why have you ordered 20 chickens and 10kgs of beef? I brought those items in yesterday!!'.
Chef: We have used them all and we need more. We only have 1kg of beef left and 4 chickens.

I cast my mind briefly to the previous night when the only defining feature of dinner service was a tumbleweed drifting lazily through the empty restaurant.

Me: What, exactly, have we used them for?
Chef: Well we couldnt get any meat for staff food last night so we gave them chicken (there are 42 memebers of staff that work for this camp).
Me: You gave them CHICKEN????
Chef: *bewildered* yes, why not?

This is the mentality I deal with. He is convinced it was the right thing to do. He doesnt stop to think about where exactly the next order is coming from, just that, as far as he was concerned, he made a decision that makes sense and now he being shouted at. This is rapidly followed by him explaining that he has been using fillet steak for the beef stew, and that most of the fillet we recieve needs to be trimmed anyway and we lose about 300g and that also goes to the staff. Do you see a trend? At this point I took a brief break to throw up.

Written warning issued. Maybe NOW I can start to enjoy my last day. You may be thinking at this point 'didnt she say she was sick?' Yes I did. The information you are missing is that I am always sick. Everyone in Juba is. There is the highest density of tropical diseases found anywhere in the world in Southern Sudan. Its so bad that talking about the condition of ones 'stool' is commonplace. It is not unusual for a customer to tell me happily while eating his meal, that he is so healthy at the moment, he doesnt even have the shits. This is normal dinner time conversation. You can diagnose just about any illness here from the quality of your stomach processes. Malaria, Typhoid, Giardia, Amoeba, etc etc etc, all have their defining characteristics. So yes, I was sick. And yes, I had every intention of getting drunk on my last day anyway.

However, one chef didnt show up, another chef had to take his wife to hospital (undiagnosed dysentery like disease, as usual) and my cleaner was 2 hours late cause her little boy has malaria. So I spent all night in the kitchen running around like a mad person and by 11pm when the kitchen closed, all the people that came to buy me drinks had gone home, and I was dead on my feet. Bed, book, sleep. Hell of a last night.

Ah well, I shall make up for it today. I sit here with a G&T in hand ready to celebrate on my own if neccesary...... Cheers!