The Bank

I was sitting in the bank yesterday and I was thinking that this may be the most exciting thing that I can enter into my blog right now. So let me tell you a little about the excitement of my job as Finance Officer for Darfur, Sudan. Once and a while I get the pleasure to take a trip to the bank to withdrawal funds for our expenses. This visit can take from 20 minutes to 2-3 hours (like it took yesterday). As an NGO we often receive special privileges in a bank because of the amount of money that we go through. Unfortunately the special privilege here in Nyala is not the speed at which we receive our money but the location we get to sit at while we wait. We get to pass through the hordes of smelly, sweaty people bunched up at the tellers fighting for service, pass the guy with the AK47 and into the bank manager’s office. We greet the manager (who calls me Howa – which mean wife of Adam or mother of all – not sure what he means buy that) and hand him the cheque written in the amount that we would like to withdrawal from our account. Then we get to take our positions in the nice padded chairs and begin the wait. When I refer to something as nice please put it into the context of ‘Darfur nice’. ‘Darfur nice’ is something that can still be used for it’s intended purpose and does stain your clothes when you come into contact with it.

I have found during my travels in Africa that banks can be spotted as the cleanest and most modern building in a town. However once again, as soon as I think I have something figured out, Africa once again surprises me and makes me question everything that I have seen and concluded in the past. The bank in Darfur is filled with old desks that are falling apart and cockroaches. So we make our way, past the people through the desks, into the manager’s office and take a seat. The manager’s office has enough room for one enormous desk, a cabinet and the two nice padded chairs that we get the pleasure of sitting in. If the manager needs to leave his office he must squeeze past the cabinet, past us sitting in the chairs and maneuver around the desk to get out the door. Personal space was not considered in this set up. The reason for the long wait could be for various reasons. Sometimes we have come during what they call ‘breakfast’ but most of the time it is because they have run out of money and they have to go and get some more.

My assistant and I usually spend the time catching up on life stuff, work stuff and my teaching session about the culture of Sudan and how Sudanese people think. Other entertaining things can be done like counting the number of spiders that are in your line of vision or making up stories about the holes in the walls or the interesting characters that get to hold the guns. The money does eventually arrive from the central bank in a metal trunk that is ushered by two men through the side door, across the bank and into the back room where the tellers are. Once the money has arrived it takes at least another 45 minutes before you see your share. Our money is dropped on the manager’s desk in a couple of piles about 8 inches tall. We then count the piles and the bundles, put it into a box or bag and walk back through the desks, through the crowds of people pushing and shoving to get to the teller and into our vehicle waiting in front.

So I hope this dispels all myths that life in Darfur is somehow exciting and romantic. It’s full of spiders, waiting, guys with guns, nice padded chairs, waiting and piles of money.