Elegu is a “post-apocalyptic shanty town”, explained my wise anthropologist friend. If you only had four words and a hyphen, I don’t think anyone could do better. Arabic music floats out of Shisha bars. Rainbows of money flap in the wind held by flimsy rubber bands. A different language every 10 meters. Refugee intake point with a broken swing. And despite all this hustle and bustle there’s no health clinic – only drug shops. Until now. New clinic number 3. Elegu.
Just 3 years ago the Border Post between South Sudan was moved 10km to sit on the actual border, and within those 3 years a bustling ‘gold rush’ town sprung up. Gold, Oil and high quality rice is smuggled in from South Sudan. Food is sold at exorbitant prices across the border. NGOs buy up large to look after those the evil war has displaced both in South Sudan itself and the refugee camps nearby in Uganda.
Elegu is a racial melting pot, although as a white person you wouldn’t guess it immediately. We’ll be serving refugees from South Sudan who are making their way outside the camps. The local Maadi tribe. Traders from the East, West, North and South who are trying to escape poverty through the trading gold rush. We asked our waiter Prossy
Me: “Where do you come from”
Prossy “Mbale, Eastern Uganda”
Me: “Why did you come to Elegu”
Prossy: (Shrugs) “Work, money”
Me: “Did you know anyone here before you came?”
Prossy: “Not even one person”
The abode we’re renting would not quite meet New Zealand building regulations, but it will do the job. You wouldn’t want to be there in an earthquake that’s for sure! Our nurse Walter is humble, cheerful chap who has moved in with his wife and small child. If anyone can make it work in a weird place like this, he can. He’ll be in Church today, welcoming resurrection and new life. That’s what we’re looking for in Elegu.