In Praise of Tito

Until yesterday, Tito conjured up the Jackson 5 and Josip Broz Tito, who during World War II, organized the anti-fascist resistance movement known as the Yugoslav Partisans.

Now, I will always think of him when I hear that name.

Tito, the financial assistant, to Nicholas Lasuba is my new best friend.

This man spent today doing everything that had nothing to do with accounting. What he did before picking me up at 9:30 AM, I do not know, but this is afterwards.

We arrived at All Saints Cathedral and the Provincial offices. There I learned that Enoch Tombe had requested Tito to drive him around Khartoum and then return to the office.

I also learned that there are two cars available to the staff.

Tito was driving one and it was not working properly.

Sapanno was driving the other and he was going to run an Immigration errand around my stay in Khartoum. Another $90.00 fee. So around 10:30 AM, he leaves with my passport and money.
Tito is now off to pick up Nicholas, bring him to work and get the car repaired.

I am left by myself. What to do? That is another story.

Tito found out that Nicholas was very ill with a recurrence of Malaria. He would not be in.

Tito went to the car repair and stayed for about three hours.

Tito investigated the cost of another computer for the Khartoum office.
At this time, there is only one computer and it will be going with Nicholas when he transfers down to Juba.

Tito returns and he gulps down some soup and water and we are off to run errands.

However, instead of heading to the mall, Tito is going to let me experience “real” shopping. In the market place, along side the roads.

As we drive he points out changes, new buildings, traffic lights etc.

The first stop is at a merchant that sells anything made out of rubber or plastic that can fit in a one car garage.

Think Kmart on a very small scale.

I could buy a porch chair along side a water storage tank. Beach pails, laundry baskets, garbage pails, hoses, coolers, etc.

Now begins the conversation in Arabic, broken English and English.
Wherever I go, these three dialects accompany me.
.
Here Tito introduces me to Sudanese hospitality.

The Arab salesman listens to what we are looking for. A hose to attach water to the air cooler in the hopes this will get the machine working propertly. And, a plastic spreadsheet that will be jury rigged from the main room to the kitchen, providing shade for the courtyard. Also, a trash can.

Apparently, the housekeeper, who I have yet to see, thinks that throwing the trash in the garden in the entrance way in lots of small plastic bags is an appropriate way of disposing of garbage.

Tito is very patient with me as I ask what he just told the gentleman. The gentleman is also very patient as he listens to me try to explain in English that Tito does not really catch my drift on items two and three. So more explaining.

Then, the merchant suggests that I sit. He disappears. Tito tells me it is important that I sit.
I ask if it is to get me out of the way. Tito laughs, says no, but his eyes say yes.

Gentlman returns with two cold Pepsi's. Hospitality. I accept, say”Sucren” (Thank you) and sit.

Conversations continue about the proper hose, the length of the hose, (I need to relearn the metric system), what is a garbage can, and how will I attach the covering to the house.

Please note, that I never drink soda's, but today
inhaled that cold Pepsi. I do not think I even tasted it. My concern was cold liquid.

We leave with all items, two manufactured in Korea and one in China.

Next stop, the market, open aired, no mall or enclosed supermarket for this experience.

First thing Tito wants to introduce me to is the vendors with all types of meat hanging. A vegeterian nightmare. Good thing I like this dog.

I try to explain to Tito that to actually have to cut the long piece of meat is probably not going to happen. So, when we stop, I pick a piece of something and have the butcher chop it up for me.
This whole time, noise is blaring as all the meat vendors scream their prices over a loud speaker system.

In addition, Tito is having to fend off children selling larger shopping bags, wheelbarrows to haul your stuff, lemon salesmen everywhere, There are masses of people everywhere. If I were to suffer from claustophbia, this would not be the place for me.

Even though I know what is happening, Tito explains that “money” has entered the market and
all want some of it.

We leave with brown rice, some type of bean, beets, onions, greens, small zuchini, tomatoes, mangoes, apples, but no watermellon.

By now, both Tito and I are craving something cold and we are on a mission to find watermellons.

Tito is amazed that they grow in the states and that I knew what they were.

Arriving back at the car, it is being washed by a young boy. Excellent job, they haggle about the price off we go in search of mellon.

Spying some watermellons being sold along the road, of course going the opposite direction, Tito stops, maneuvers across the main highway and returns with not only the mellon, but the most delicious smelling fruit. This scent needs to be bottled.

We head home.

The gate will not open. Tito tries. I get Sami from next door. He brings his key. Does not open.

Tito goes with Sami to his house, climbs up on the wall and drops down into the courtyard. Door opens.

Bless Tito.

They both discuss garbage situation. I learn that housekeeper, who I have not seen, should be taking that away or seeing that it is taken away.

Both agree that hedges should be trimmed (oh boy gardening), the front patio cleaned up, and make it a place to sit with someone as the evening comes to a close.

Bless Tito (Sami).

Tito helps with trying to get the Air Cooler working. I do not think this is happening.

We cnanot figure the propane stove. Rascal will not get cooked meat tonight.

I send him on his way with a bottle of water, which he downs in one gulp. Filling him front head to toes.

His wife and child are waiting.

Bless Tito.